


Harry Potter and The Past That Won't Leave Him Alone

by MistressSage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Redeemed Dudley Dursley, Rimming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressSage/pseuds/MistressSage
Summary: Written for BrandonStrayne as part of the Pen15 Is Mightier Holiday Gift Exchange 2018.Harry Potter has become quite accomplished at avoiding the darkest parts of his past. That is, until one week in May, ten years after the end of the war, when his past decides to confront him--over and over again. Draco Malfoy has a cause worth fighting for, and Harry finds himself involved. It's a story of how even the darkest parts of our past shape our future, and that it's okay to stop running.





	1. In Which Harry Is Hit By His Past Like A Cursed Bludger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrandonStrayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/gifts).



In the ten years since the war had ended, Harry had become quite skilled at avoiding the darkest parts of his past. Sure, there was the annual celebration in May that required a speech, a few interviews, and an awkward photo shoot. But even then, he tried to keep his focus on the present and the future: look how far the Wizarding world had come, and look how far they still had to go. 

The first two years had been rough. Strangers ran up to him on the streets to thank him for defeating Voldemort. The press stalked his every move. When the anxiety attacks and nightmares became too much to bear, Hermione convinced him to see a Mind Healer at St. Mungo’s. But the Mind Healer was too starstruck to help. His best friend loaded him up with self-help books instead, and Harry used something called “mindfulness” to avoid confronting his demons. (“I don’t think you’re using it right,” Hermione had said on more than one occasion.) 

He dated some, with no relationship lasting more than a year or so. He couldn't avoid the press if he dated witches and wizards, so he usually stuck to the Muggle world. But that never worked out; the fact that his home was invisible to Muggles was the least complicated part of dating. He excelled as an Auror, and he helped raise Teddy. He became the fun uncle to Ron and Hermione’s kids, and he only used his fame for charity. And he continued to adeptly avoid confronting his past. 

Until one week in May when his past decided to slap him directly in the face, over and over again. 

The first time he saw Draco Malfoy was in a Muggle coffee shop near the Ministry entrance on a Monday morning. Harry had been too entranced in his new mobile phone to notice that the blond man in front of him was his former nemesis. But when he approached the cashier, she informed him that his drink had already been paid for by the man. Harry looked around, confused, only to find Malfoy standing by the bar, grabbing his coffee from the barista. Malfoy nodded at him, expressionless, then left without a word. Harry tried to convince himself that he had imagined it, partly because he had definitely checked out the man’s arse as he left the coffeeshop. 

The last time he had spoken to, or even seen, Malfoy was at the Death Eater sentencing. Harry’s testimony during the trials had ensure the freedom of both Malfoy and his mother. Malfoy murmured a quick “thank you” before the sea of reporters and photographers had separated them. Narcissa had written him a letter of thanks, but then the two Malfoys disappeared from public life. 

But Malfoy wordlessly purchasing a coffee for Harry at a Muggle shop was far from the weirdest thing that happened that week. 

The second time he saw Malfoy was that Wednesday when he met Neville for a pint in Hogsmeade. As Neville rambled on about some new species of mimbulus that he had gotten for his NEWT students, Harry’s eyes were drawn to the far corner of the Three Broomsticks. There sat Headmistress McGonagall deep in conversation with a platinum blond man that Harry would know anywhere. Harry blinked a few times, sure he was mistaken. But that same chiseled jaw and piercing eyes from the coffeeshop, from his past, sat smiling with their former professor. 

“Neville, sorry to interrupt, mate. But is that Draco Malfoy sitting with McGonagall?” 

Neville turned in his seat with no subtlety. “Hm. Looks like it. I walked into Hogsmeade with Minerva. She just said she had a business meeting.” 

“Is he one of the Governors now?” 

“No, not unless something has changed since our staff meeting last week.” 

“Let me know if you find out what it’s all about, would you?” 

“Sure.” But Neville didn’t seem bothered by the strange meeting. He changed the subject to talk about his summer plans with Luna. Harry tried to pay attention, but he couldn’t stop stealing glances at Malfoy, wondering what he was up to. 

That night, for the first time in years, Harry dreamed about the bathroom in sixth year—yelling Sectumsempra and Malfoy’s dying body bleeding out over the tile. He woke up in a deep sweat, full of shame and fear. But he quickly pushed it aside and focused instead on the sounds in his dark room and the breaths he took. 

The week just got stranger. He didn’t see Malfoy on Thursday, but he did see someone else from his past. Someone he had never thought he would see again. Someone he very much wanted never to see again. 

It had been a slow few weeks for the Aurors, and Harry was relieved to get an out-of-office assignment. It had been getting harder and harder to look busy at his desk. The case was hardly thrilling, and Harry would be home after a couple hours of Obliviates, but it was something to do. Harry had never learned how to handle tedium well. Something about having a homicidal maniac out to get you from age 11 had left him easily bored. 

He looked at the file that had appeared on his desk. It was just clean-up from accidental, underage magic. Muggle Liaison was already there and had rounded up all the witnesses; they just needed an Auror to Obliviate their memories. He looked at the address. Surrey. 

He sighed. He never liked to return to Surrey, although he had managed to avoid Little Whinging altogether. He decided he needed a stiff drink and a good lay after this week’s barrage of the past. He promised himself he would hit the Muggle bars tomorrow then headed to the Auror’s Apparition point. 

He Apparated into the area pictured in the file—a toilet in a shopping mall that the Muggle Liaison Office had cleared. He walked out of the loo to find Susan Bones waiting for him. “Hey, Susan,” he grinned. He had always liked her, at school and at work. She was friendly and good at her job. 

“Hello, Harry! Good to see you. We’ve rounded up all the Muggle witnesses into the shop just over there. There’s only about a dozen. Some little Muggleborn girl got scared of a clown, and she shrunk him. Can’t say I blame her. Clowns are damn creepy.” 

“Oh no! Is the clown all right?” 

“He’ll be fine. He’s at St. Mungo’s. They’ll Obliviate him on his way out.” 

“Cheers. Well, catch you later, Susan.” 

Harry headed into the shoe store where all the witnesses waited. He had each of them tell their version of what they had seen, then he quickly Obliviated their memories of the event. They all left, with no memory of a clown and only slightly disappointed that they couldn’t find the shoes they wanted. 

When the last of the Muggles had been sent on their way, Harry went out to let Susan know that he was finished. She wasn’t around anymore, but he caught sight of her boss sitting on a bench, talking to a large Muggle man and a sniffling little girl. That must be the one the who had shrunk the clown. 

He walked up, hesitant to interrupt but eager to get out of there and head home. “Excuse me, Patrice? I’ve finished with the witnesses.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I’ll look for your notes in the case file tomorrow.” 

“Harry?!” The Muggle man turned and looked at Harry in surprise. As recognition dawned on Harry, his jaw dropped. “Oh, thank God!” 

“Du-Dudley?” 

Patrice and the little girl looked back and forth between the two men. “Daddy, who is this?” 

“This is my cousin, Harry Potter. He’s...he’s like you, sweetheart. Harry, this is my daughter, Daisy.” 

Harry gaped. He was at a total loss for words. He had not seen Dudley since the day they left Little Whinging. Dudley had thanked him for saving his life, but then he left with Vernon and Petunia, never to be heard from again. Until now. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run away. He gulped down a large breath and reminded himself that he was still on the clock as a representative of the Ministry. “He-hello.” 

Then, Dudley did the most unexpected thing Harry could have ever imagined. In fact, Harry would never have imagined it. Dudley stepped forward and wrapped Harry in an embrace. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“Uhhh,” Harry replied, dumbstruck. “Yeah.” 

Dudley let Harry go, and Patrice stood. “We’re done here, Mr. Dursley. Daisy, it was lovely to meet you. Remember to try your best to control your magic. Mr. Potter, I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” 

“Bye, Magic Lady!” Daisy waved. She was a cute little girl, with blonde pigtails and a spattering of freckles across her nose. She gripped her father’s hand, and Dudley smiled down with pride at his daughter. His witch daughter. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve wanted to see you for so many years, Harry. But I had no idea how to reach you.” 

“Because your daughter is a witch?” 

“Well, yes, partially. But I tried to find you even before she was born. I didn’t know if you were even alive. I’m glad you are, by the way.” 

“Um. Thanks. You, too.” Harry cleared his throat. He was glad Dudley was alive, glad Voldemort had never found the Dursleys, terrible though they had been to him. “Why?” 

“Why am I glad you are alive? Or why did I try to find you?” 

“Both?” Harry wasn’t sure what he was asking. 

Dudley laughed. “Can I buy you dinner? I know Daisy must be getting hungry, and I promised her hamburgers. There’s an American restaurant on the second floor that’s quite good.” 

Harry nodded, unsure what else to do. He followed the two, and Daisy chatted happily about meeting the Magic People and about the scary clown and about her pink shoes and some television show she liked. Dudley responded to her comments with “oh wow” and “that’s great, honey.” The fact that Dudley was such a doting father might have been the strangest part of the whole day. Maybe. 

Inside the restaurant, Daisy took to coloring her children’s menu. Dudley did most of the talking, thankfully. It turned out that Dudley had gotten married eight years before to a girl he met at work. They had a seven-year-old son named Brian, and Daisy, who was five. Daisy had first started showing signs of magic at age two, when she could change the telly channel by crying. But today was the first time her magic had manifested outside of home. 

Vernon had died prematurely of a heart attack just three years before, and Dudley had been on a weight loss journey to avoid a similar fate. (“I’m down three stone,” he bragged.) Petunia still lived on Privet Drive and had joined various ladies’ clubs after Vernon’s death. Dudley worked as a foreman at a factory, and his wife worked as a bank teller. 

“What about you, Harry? Are you married? What have you done since I last saw you?” 

Harry laughed sardonically. He had fought a war and defeated the darkest Wizard of all time since he last saw Dudley. He tried to find a way to say it without sounding cruel. “Um, you know. We had that war.” 

“Right, right. And you won, I take it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And now you have some important job with the, er, Ministry of Magic?” 

Harry shrugged, “I’m an Auror. It’s sort of like the police.” 

“Married? Kids?” 

Harry shook his head. “No. I stay pretty busy with work and such.” 

Their food came out just then, and the cousins sat in silence, eating and listening to Daisy talk about anything and everything. Harry tried to stay in the moment, but his mind kept slipping back to his childhood with the Dursleys. He hardly recognized the man in front of him. He wondered if Dudley was thinking of their history, too. 

When they stood to leave, Harry thanked Dudley for the meal. He nodded and gave Harry a warm smile. “Listen, Harry. I was a right shit to you growing up. And the way my parents treated you—well, I’m a parent now, and I can’t imagine treating a kid like that. You saved my life, and you had no reason to. I’d really like to stay in touch. I want you to meet Brian and Meredith. And I’d love some help introducing Daisy to your world. I don’t know much about it, and well, Meredith knows nothing but what I’ve told her.” 

“Um. All right, yeah. I have a mobile. Let me give you the number.” 

At home, Harry drank a whole bottle of elf-made wine by himself. That night, he dreamed that Vernon The Clown kept taking his food away but Dudley kept shoving it down his throat as he yelled, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

On Friday, Harry spotted Malfoy leaving the office of a member of the Wizengamot. He wore Muggle clothes again, a perfectly tailored grey suit that matched his eyes. And Malfoy had the biggest grin on his face. Harry couldn’t stop staring until Malfoy had ascended into the elevator. Harry opted for the gay bars that evening and went home with a handsome blond.


	2. In Which Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter Have An Awkward Exchange At The Urinal

“Honestly, mate. Aren’t you a little old to be stalking Malfoy?” Ron asked over dinner at Grimmauld Place on Saturday night. Rose and Hugo were at Molly’s with the other Weasley grandkids. Molly insisted on watching all of the kids Saturday nights and sending them home with their parents after Sunday supper. Every Sunday, she reminded Harry that the offer stood for any future children he had and then asked about Harry’s dating life. 

“I’m not stalking him! I’ve seen him three times this week, after not seeing him for a decade.” 

“That’s not true. You saw him at Pansy and Lavender’s wedding a couple years ago,” Hermione chimed in. 

“I don’t remember much about that night,” Harry reminded them. It wasn’t his fault that Lavender had an open bar. He tried to remember seeing Malfoy but he couldn’t. 

“He slipped out after the ceremony. I imagine seeing so many people from the past at the reception seemed unbearable.” Hermione poured herself another glass of firewhiskey. “But it is odd that he has suddenly reappeared in public recently.” 

“What do you think he’s up to?” Harry asked. 

Hermione and Ron shared a glance that Harry couldn’t read. Ron spoke first. “I doubt he’s up to anything, mate. He’s not a Death Eater anymore.” 

“But a business meeting with McGonagall? Coming out of a Wizengamot office grinning?” 

“If you’re so curious, ask him next time you see him,” Hermione told him, like it was the most obvious suggestion in the world. 

“Right. Hey, I know we haven’t spoken since your sentencing, but why the hell are you showing up everywhere all of a sudden? That will go well.” 

“Or you could just forget about it. It really isn’t any of your business, Harry. The war is over. We aren’t at Hogwarts. You don’t have to be obsessed with Malfoy’s every move now.” 

“She’s right,” Ron nodded. He always sided with Hermione. 

“I’m not obsessed.” But even Harry realized his voice was less than convincing. He decided to change the subject. “Guess who else I ran into this week.” 

Harry saw Malfoy five more times over the next several weeks, always at the Ministry leaving meetings with various important people. He wrote to Neville to find out if he had learned anything about Malfoy’s meeting with McGonagall. All Neville said was that he saw Malfoy leaving the Headmistress’ office a couple times. 

Harry couldn’t help feeling suspicious; old habits die hard, after all. Not to mention that seeing both Malfoy and Dudley had made all his nightmares and anxiety return. But despite his wariness, Harry could not figure out what sinister thing Draco would be up to. Any possible explanation he came up with were all innocent. Harry had also become extremely horny and visited the bars a couple nights a week, although he was quite sure this had nothing to do with Draco. He had a few dates that went well enough to become second and third dates. But none of them were relationship material. 

On top of the Malfoy sightings, Dudley had called Harry just a few days after their unlikely reunion. He invited Harry to his house for dinner. And it was strangely normal. Their kids were sweet and smart, and they liked their new Uncle Harry very much. “Can they call you Uncle?” Dudley had asked. “First cousin once-removed doesn’t have the same ring to it.” 

Meredith was a lovely woman, and as different from Petunia as anyone could be. She had accepted magic as a part of her life now. They both had, because they adored their daughter. Harry now went over for dinner every Wednesday, and the evenings were largely spent asking questions about the wizarding world. Harry had even promised to take Daisy to Diagon Alley with Ron and Rose. Daisy was very excited to meet another witch her age, especially one with a flower name. She had already decided they would be best friends. 

On a Friday, about a month after Malfoy had bought Harry a coffee without so much as a hello, Harry finally came face to face with his old enemy. There was no epic showdown. Their meeting was far from poetic. It occurred at the urinals in the Ministry toilets. 

Harry took a piss, lost in his thoughts, until a flash of white-blond hair appeared in his periphery. He glanced over to see Draco Malfoy unzipping his fly two urinals down. For a fleeting moment, Harry wished Malfoy was next to him so he could sneak a peek. He pushed the thought aside. 

“Potter.” 

“Malfoy.” 

Harry finished up and went to wash his hands. When Malfoy finished a moment later, he had to stand right next to Harry, as there were only two sinks. “Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?” Draco still had that polished, aristocratic lilt to his voice. Even after ten years, it still felt familiar to Harry, though not at all evil. 

“Um, yes.” Harry turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. Now was his chance to ask about Malfoy’s sudden reappearance. “I’ve seen you around the Ministry a lot lately.” 

“Oh, yes. I’m working on a project.” 

“Oh.” That was as vague an answer as Harry could have gotten. He was no more enlightened than he had been before he took a piss. “Well, see you around, I guess.” 

“Potter, wait. Are you free this evening?” 

“Uhhh...” 

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Could I buy you a drink at the Leaky? Say around six?” 

“Uhhh...sure?” 

“Great! I’ll see you then.” Malfoy turned and left Harry alone in the loo, wondering what in the hell had just happened. 

Harry waited a few minutes to avoid running into Malfoy in the corridor then headed down to Hermione’s office in the Magical Creatures department. “Hermione, you won’t believe what just happened,” he said as he pushed open her office door and collapsed in a chair opposite her desk. “I’m getting a drink with Draco fucking Malfoy tonight.” 

Hermione cocked her head and waved her wand to close the office door. She cast a quick Muffliato for good measure. “What the fuck? Tell me everything.” 

Harry had no idea what to expect when he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He had spent a good thirty minutes showering and picking out an outfit, finally settling on a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a black button-down. What sort of drink was this? Malfoy had said he wanted to talk to Harry about something. Was this actually a date? Surely not. They hadn’t even spoken in years until today. Was it work related? He couldn’t imagine what Malfoy would need with an Auror, or why it would need to be Harry specifically. 

He couldn’t shut down his brain, no matter how much mindfulness he tried, even as he exited the Floo into the brightly lit pub. The Leaky Cauldron was packed, as it always was on a Friday after work. A few familiar faces waved at him as he scanned the crowd for Malfoy. 

Draco Malfoy sat in a corner at a small table. He waved Harry over, and Harry suddenly feared what would happen if the press saw him in public with Draco. He hadn’t even considered that earlier, because he would have insisted on a Muggle pub instead. But Harry didn’t see any of the reporters he recognized. He took a deep breath and walked over to have a drink with Malfoy. 

Malfoy stood as Harry approached the table and stuck out his hand to shake Harry’s. Harry accepted it, and he remembered a time many years ago when he had refused to take the same hand. But they were older now, both victims of a childhood neither should have had to endure. 

“Potter, thanks for coming. I ordered us each pint, if that’s all right.” He gestured at the table, where two amber ales sat, enticingly cold and frothy. Harry sat and took a large sip. 

“Thanks.” 

“Of course. You look well. Are you enjoying the Aurors?” Malfoy had a polite expression on his face, but the forced small talk felt wrong. 

“Yes. Um. What is it you do for a living?” 

“Oh, I took over the Malfoy investments. Well, the ones that stuck around after the...after everything. I’ve gathered up some new ones, as well. Lots of meetings with stuffy businessmen, you know. Nothing exciting.” 

“Right.” 

They drank in silence for a few minutes, neither sure what to say next. “How’s your mother?” Harry finally asked. 

“She’s well. She has enjoyed life as a divorcee. She’s finally getting the happiness she deserves.” 

“Good.” 

“And Weasley and Granger, how are they?” 

“Fine. Happy. They have two kids, you know.” 

“Really? Good for them.” 

This was just odd. Malfoy had never even feigned politeness before, and he had certainly never cared about Ron and Hermione. They were silent again, and Harry took the opportunity to really take in Malfoy for the first time. He had filled out, Harry noticed, no longer a scrawny git. The lines of his face had matured and sharpened; Harry’s eyes kept flicking back to that jawline. His eyes gave nothing away about what he was thinking, but Harry couldn’t help but notice they were the loveliest shade of silver. He wore navy shirt with no tie, and the first two buttons were undone, exposing his Adam’s apple and the slightest hint of a chiseled collarbone. There was no doubt about it. Draco Malfoy was attractive. 

Harry cleared his throat unconsciously as he thought this. Draco looked up and met his eyes. He gave Harry a distinctly Malfoy smirk. Did he know Harry had been admiring him? “So, Malfoy. Why am I here?” 

For a moment, Malfoy looked like he wanted to respond with some sarcastic remark. But to his credit, he didn’t. He sat up a little straighter and took one last drink of his beer. “I mentioned I was working on a project. I wanted to talk to you about your childhood.” 

Harry blinked. Where was he going with this? “Pretty sure you were there, too.” 

“What? Oh, no. Sorry. I meant, your life with those Muggles. I believe I read that they were rather abusive to you.” 

Heat rose to Harry’s cheeks. “What the fuck, Malfoy?” 

“Shit. Sorry. Please let me explain.” 

“We haven’t spoken in ten years. We haven’t so much as seen each other until a month ago, when you bought me a coffee and said nothing. What was up with that, by the way? We aren’t friends. We’ve never been friends. We were the bloody opposite of friends. And you think you can just ask me shit like this over a pint? Fuck you, Malfoy.” 

Harry was standing by that point. He hadn’t realized he was clutching his wand, and he tried to consciously loosen his grip. He stormed off. 

“Wait, Potter, please, that’s not what...” 

But Harry couldn’t hear him. He left the Leaky Cauldron and walked out into Muggle London. He was fuming. How could he have ever agreed to get a drink with Malfoy? What sort of sick mind games was he playing? 

He turned toward home and decided he would walk. He was too angry to Apparate without splinching himself, and he’d be damned if he would go back inside to use the Floo. Fuck Malfoy. Years of images flooded his mind, and he could barely breathe. Malfoy taunting him. Malfoy smashing his nose. Malfoy trying to kill Dumbledore. 

“Potter, wait!” 

Malfoy had the audacity to come after him. Harry ignored him, and replayed their conversation just now. Rather abusive. Yes, that’s what starving a child is. Beating a child. Berating a child. Using a child for slave labor. Fuck Malfoy’s privileged ass. 

“Potter, please! Harry!” 

His slimy voice was closer now. Harry turned to cross the street to get away from him. A horn sounded, and Harry looked up just in time to see a car headed straight for him. He froze in fear. “Damn it, Potter!” was the last thing he heard before someone grabbed his arm and swirled him away.


	3. In Which Harry Potter Becomes Entangled In Draco Malfoy's Project

Harry collapsed onto the floor and hit his head on something. And something large fell on top of him. “Ow,” he moaned as he tried to get his bearings. He adjusted his glasses and saw that he was laying on a black rug and had hit his head on the corner of a glass coffee table. “Fuck.” 

“Goddammit, Potter. Still always looking for ways to get yourself killed. I see you haven’t grown out of your laissez-faire stupidity.” Malfoy was climbing off of Harry onto his feet. 

“What the fuck am I doing here? You Apparated me to your house?” Harry grabbed his wand and pointed it at Malfoy, who drew his in response. 

“You’re welcome to leave. The door is right there. I’m sorry this is the first place that popped into my head when I saved your ass from getting hit by a fucking car!” 

“Oh.” 

Malfoy scoffed. “You’re welcome, by the way. I’d never live it down if I let the Saviour of the Wizarding World get hit by speeding hunk of metal.” 

“Your reputation is intact, then,” Harry spat. He rubbed his eye absentmindedly, and pain shot through his head. “Ow.” 

“Oh, it’s swelling. I’ve got a salve for that, if you would like.” Harry said nothing, which Draco took as his agreement. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” 

Harry stood awkwardly in Malfoy’s living room, taking in his surrounding for the first time. It certainly wasn’t Malfoy Manor. In fact, it was a really nice flat that could have been a television set on a primetime drama. It was sleek and modern, decorated in black and white and silver. It certainly didn’t look like a place a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would call home. The living room opened directly into the kitchen like those American homes he saw in magazines sometimes. He noticed stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. The windows overlooked the London skyline. This was an expensive flat. 

Malfoy returned with a tin of salve and a mirror that he handed to Harry. Harry murmured a quick thanks and sat on the leather sofa. Malfoy sat opposite him on a matching armchair, watching Harry apply the salve to his bruised eye. 

“Listen, Potter. Harry. I want to apologize.” 

Harry froze and met Malfoy’s eyes. He would never have thought the man that sat before him would be capable of apologizing. But this whole evening was bizarre. “For your coffee table nearly taking my eye out? Who has a glass coffee table, anyway?” 

Malfoy smirked. “I’m not apologizing for my impeccable style. But I want to apologize for what I said before. I was quite nervous and had no idea where to begin. It came out all wrong, and I am sorry.” 

Harry nodded, thinking. After several moments, he spoke. “Would you like to try again, without bringing up my troubled past?” 

And then Malfoy did something even more unexpected than apologizing. He smiled. The most amazing smile spread across his sharp features and lit up his eyes. In all their years of school together, Harry had never seen Malfoy smile like that. “I would.” 

Harry waited for Malfoy to continue. “I suppose I should start with my project that I mentioned. Or maybe before that. I don’t know. It’s all so much, and we don’t know anything about each other and...” 

“Malfoy.” Harry held up his hand. “What is your project?” 

“I’m trying to get a law passed through the Wizengamot and establish a new department. Or office under an established department. We are still trying to work that out. Anyway, I’m working on child welfare.” 

Harry stared at Malfoy as he continued to explain. Malfoy could have told Harry that he was a hippogriff in love with a unicorn, and Harry wouldn’t have been as surprised as he was by this revelation. Draco Malfoy, champion for child welfare. But Harry listened, intrigued. 

“See, the Muggles have government departments dedicated to stopping child abuse. In England, it’s under the Department of Education, but in America it’s under social services. Either way, it’s part of the government because there are laws against child abuse. They remove children from dangerous homes. They give parenting lessons. And yeah, it’s not always the best system. Bureaucracy is a bitch, you know. But there are also charities that work with children. But did you know the Ministry has no such laws? They’ve always taken the approach of turning a blind eye and not getting involved in family life. And well, that’s just wrong. There are innocent children being hurt by the people who are supposed to care for them. And no one is doing anything about it.” 

Harry listened as Malfoy explained his plan. His law would make child abuse illegal and punishable as a crime. He had plans to set up a foster care system. He had thought up the ways to report abuse and had researched how to identify abuse. He met with McGonagall about her experiences with abused children, and she was on board to help. He was working on a charity to help fund it and produce literature about child abuse. He had already thought of a training program for what he called social workers. Harry was amazed, and he was moved by the passion with which Malfoy spoke. 

When he finally stopped talking, Harry’s head spun with all the new information and emotions. But one question loomed above all his other thoughts. “Malfoy. Why?” 

Malfoy’s impassioned smile faded. “Because my life would have been a lot different if someone had stopped my father from abusing me.” 

Harry was stunned. He knew Lucius Malfoy was a vicious man. But he had always assumed that Malfoy had been a loved, spoiled child. Harry stared at his hands. “I never knew...” 

“It wasn’t always physical, you know. Mostly he would berate me and humiliate me. Emotional abuse, they call it. He would hit me and hex me when I really pissed him off, though. I was five the first time I remember being hexed. And he was worse to my mother, especially if she tried to stop him from hurting me.” He cleared his throat. “But then he would buy me something or take me on holiday some place great. I wanted nothing more than his approval. And look where that got me.” 

Harry looked up to see Malfoy gesturing to his left forearm, where he knew the Dark Mark lay behind the fabric of his shirt. “And where do I come in?” 

Malfoy averted his eyes. “I thought having Harry Potter behind the law would help persuade the Wizengamot and the public. My name isn’t exactly a positive one. And you have so much influence that--” 

“I’m in.” 

“What?” 

“I’m in. Whatever you need, interviews, endorsement, money—although I’m sure you’re richer than me—whatever. I don’t know what getting a law passed entails. But I’m in.” 

Malfoy stared at him. “Really?” 

“Yes. Fuck. Draco Malfoy, let’s save wizarding children together.”


	4. In Which Daisy Dursley Is Introduced To The Wizarding World

“I think you’re right that it should fall under the DMLE instead of Magical Education, but should it go under an existing office or a new one? Pass the pad thai.” Malfoy held out his arm for the container of noodles on Harry’s other side. The two wizards were spread out at Malfoy’s dining table, also obnoxiously made of glass and sharp corners, with a myriad of documents and containers of takeaway. 

Harry passed Malfoy the pad thai and shoveled more green curry on his plate. “It could go under MLEP,” he suggested. “They’ll be enforcing the laws the most, right?” 

Malfoy mused as he chewed then took a sip of wine. Harry had to admit Malfoy had a great taste in wine and liquor. And food. This was now the fourth night in a week that Harry had come over to Malfoy’s after work to work on the child services project, as they had dubbed it, and he always enjoyed seeing what Malfoy would serve for dinner and drink. Malfoy gave Harry a strange look, and Harry realized he’d been staring at Malfoy’s mouth intently as he drank. Harry quickly averted his eyes and took a bite of curry. 

“Only if there is an arrest that needs to be made or a situation of imminent danger. The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol is full of buffoons. I’d rather not set this up for failure from the beginning.” 

Harry snorted. In general, he agreed that MLEP officers were incompetent. Indeed, it was one too many botched Obliviates by MLEP that gave the job of dealing with Muggle witnesses to the Aurors. And MLEP were the arch-rivals of the Aurors in the annual inter-office Quidditch tournament. But Seamus was an officer, so they weren’t all bad. 

“Investigation department?” Harry suggested through a mouthful of food. 

Malfoy gave him a look of disgust. “Possibly. Does the Investigation Department chew their food before speaking? If so, they have my vote.” 

Harry’s cheeks heated, and he resisted the urge to open his mouth and show off the contents to Malfoy. But they weren’t twelve anymore, so he swallowed his food and just said, “Fuck off, Malfoy.” 

Malfoy smirked. “I’m not sure how Investigation will feel about taking on more work that isn’t dark magic. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter how they feel. We’ll be training new staff anyway.” 

“What all would establishing a new department entail?” 

“Honestly, don’t you work at the Ministry? How are you so clueless about our legal system?” 

“It’s not like they taught government at Hogwarts.” 

Malfoy raised his wine glass to his lips. “Touche.” Then he launched into an explanation of reallocation of funds and fiscal years and some other boring terms that Harry tried really hard to pay attention to; instead, he found himself staring at Malfoy’s lips again. 

“Damn,” Harry said aloud when he realized he’d been staring. 

“I know, it’s involved. That’s why I think we should put it under an established department. Let’s put it under Investigation for now.” 

Harry nodded in agreement, but he tuned out as Malfoy continued. At first, he had simply been impressed by Malfoy’s dedication to this project and how much research he had done. And it was a cause Harry could get behind easily. It was personal, after all. But over the last week, he had discovered he genuinely liked Malfoy. Sure, he could be a right arse at times, but his snide comments were never truly malevolent. He was funny and smart, and he had the added benefit of being nice to look at. Shit, Harry realized. I have a crush on Draco Malfoy. 

“So, what do you think?” 

“About what?” 

“Honestly, Potter. You have the attention span of Cornish pixie. What do you think about asking Blaise to author a draft of the law? He speaks legal-ese a lot more fluently than I do, and he is a renowned solicitor.” 

“Sounds great.” 

While Harry enjoyed the evenings working with Malfoy, and he felt like he had a cause worth fighting for the first time in a decade, his nightmares had returned in full-force. He made a pact with himself to only use Dreamless Sleep once a week, just to catch up on the broken rest. He also had increasing anxiety about going out in public, instead sending a very old Kreacher to do his errands. The ancient house-elf didn’t have the energy to do both errands and housework, so Harry had taken up cooking and cleaning. It was a nice distraction, and it was the only time Harry could really practice his mindfulness lately. Plus, Kreacher’s commentary on Harry’s dusting skills was hilarious. 

Malfoy had asked if they could spend Saturday meeting with Blaise Zabini, but Harry had promised to take Daisy to Diagon Alley for the first time. As excited as he was to introduce Daisy to her new world, he had a sinking feeling of disappointment at not being with Malfoy. He tried to tell himself that it was just because he felt so dedicated to child services now. But the little voice in the back of his head, which had always sounded vaguely like eleven-year-old Hermione, kept tutting at his lies. 

“Are we going to Popperate there, Uncle Harry?” Daisy asked as they left the Dursley’s front porch. 

“Apparate. And no, I want you to see Diagon Alley the same way I did the first time. Plus, Apparating can make your tummy hurt the first time. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the ice cream.” 

“Ice cream!” 

Harry and Daisy rode the Tube, and the little girl talked nonstop the whole way there. Harry had to remind her more than once that magic was a secret, and she would lower her voice into the whisper-yell that only little kids can do. Harry chuckled and decided anyone who overheard them would think she just had a vivid imagination. 

They got off at the stop for Charing Cross Road, the Tube exit closest to The Leaky Cauldron. He pointed out the pub, obscured from the sight of Muggles, and watched Daisy’s eyes widen as she saw it appear before them. For the first time all morning, Daisy was speechless. “Come on, little Daisy. Let’s go find some magic.” 

The Leaky Cauldron was packed, as it always was on the weekends. People waved at Harry and looked at the small girl in curiosity, but to his relief, they were left alone. He had taken a Calming Draught before he left home that morning, just to be sure he could handle the outing. He introduced Daisy to Tom the barman then took her out to the small patio behind the pub. 

He tapped his wand on the appropriate brick, and Daisy gasped loudly as the archway to Diagon Alley sprung to life. She gripped his hand tightly, unsure at the new experience before her, and Harry guided her onto the bustling street. 

She didn’t say much as they walked to Fortescue’s, only occasionally pointing at things and asking Harry to explain. Harry smiled and remembered how overwhelmed he had been when Hagrid brought him to Diagon Alley all those years ago. They stopped in front of the ice cream parlor, and Harry asked Daisy if she was all right. She nodded then shrieked as a ghostly Jack Russell Terrier appeared in front of them. Ron’sexasperated voice said, “Sorry, mate. We’re running late. Apparently picking out which shoes to wear requires tantrums and drama.” 

Daisy peered out from behind Harry’s legs. “It’s all right. That’s a Patronus. You can use it to send messages to people, but it’s a very hard spell to cast. That’s my friend Ron’s. He and Rose are running a little late.” 

Daisy nodded. “Are they always puppies?” 

Harry tried not to laugh. “No, mine is a stag—a boy deer. Everyone’s is a different animal, and you don’t know what it will be until you cast it the first time.” 

“I hope mine is a pony!” 

Harry withdrew his wand and showed Daisy how he cast his Patronus. He sent it to Ron to let him know they would wait at Fortescue’s before leading Daisy inside. Daisy sampled every flavor before deciding on the butterbeer flavor, just like her Uncle Harry. They sat at a table, and he saw Daisy looking at the memorial of Florian Fortescue against the back wall. “He died?” 

“Yes. We, uh, we had a bad war a few years ago. Florian didn’t survive.” 

“Who would kill an ice cream man?” Daisy asked in a voice that clearly said killing ice cream men was unthinkable. Harry gave her a sad smile. 

“A very, very bad man.” 

“I’m glad the ice cream is okay.” 

She changed the subject to things she had seen already, asking tons of questions, and Harry answered them patiently. He was used to this with Rose. In fact, Hermione had pointed out, Daisy and Rose should go to Hogwarts at the same time. He hoped the two little girls would become friends. 

Just then, Ron and Rose entered the shop. Harry waved them over and introduced them to Daisy. By the time Daisy was finished with her ice cream, she and Rose had declared themselves best friends. 

“So, you’ve never seen a niffler? We have to go the Magical Menagerie! Can we, Daddy?” Rose gave Ron her best puppy-dog eyes. 

“Of course, sweetie. Finish your ice cream.” 

Harry and Ron let Rose lead Daisy around Diagon Alley as they followed along smiling. They visited the Magical Menagerie and Eeylop’s so Harry could get some owl treats. Ron let Daisy buy whatever she wanted from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and Daisy thought George Weasley was the funniest person she’d ever met. Daisy wanted to look at broomsticks, and Harry talked up Quidditch as much as he could. “I want to see a Quidditch game!” she cried. 

“My aunt plays Quidditch, you know. It’s her job.” Rose beamed proudly. 

Then Rose insisted they visit Flourish and Blotts; she was her mother’s child, after all. But Daisy loved to read, and Harry had no problem buying her as many wizarding children’s books as she wanted. As Rose pointed out all of her favorite books, Ron leaned into Harry. “It’s hard for her to make friends, you know. She’s what the kids call a nerd, and she can be a bit of a know-it-all.” 

“Wonder where she gets that from,” Harry snorted. 

“Right? I should expect nothing less from making babies with Hermione. But this is good.” He gestured to the two little girls. 

“Well, Daisy needs a know-it-all about this world. And I need someone else to help me answer all the questions she asks. It’s a win-win.” 

“Hey, how is that thing with Malfoy?” 

Harry grinned. “Great!” He filled Ron in on their progress. The cause was something Ron and Hermione fully supported, and they had promised to help promote it to the public. Harry and Hermione hated using their fame for anything but good, and with the entire Golden Trio behind it, it shouldn’t be hard to convince the public to support the new law. 

Ron gave Harry an odd look. “You called him Draco.” 

“Did I? Well, we’ve been spending a lot of time together. Might as well.” 

Ron studied his best friend, and Harry knew the look well. Every now and then, Ron would surprise everyone with his emotional insight. “You like him.” 

“Of course, I like him. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t.” 

“You more than like him.” 

“Ron, no, I--” 

“Have you talked about your past with him?” 

“Why would I do that? We get along fine.” 

“If you’re going to get involved with him, you need to address the hippogriff in the room. You do remember that your hatred for each other almost resulted in both your deaths, right?” 

Harry sighed and collected his thoughts. “First of all, I’m not getting involved with him. It’s strictly business. Second, he’s not the same person he was back then. And frankly, neither am I.” 

“I know, mate. But you can’t just ignore the past. It has a way of affecting you even if you don’t confront it.” He gave Harry a pointed look that clearly said, since you refuse to deal with it. 

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was saved by the appearance of Daisy with a stack of books. “Can we go see the goblins at the bank now?”


	5. In Which Harry and Draco Get Good News And Also Get Shit-Faced

Harry tried his best to forget what Ron had said. Draco and Harry hadn’t been enemies in ten years, after all. And they were just business partners. At least, that’s what he told himself. But it was true that the evenings at Draco’s apartment had turned friendly. They talked about Quidditch and shared a loathing of the Chudley Cannons. Harry told Draco all about Daisy and her discovery of the magical world. Draco told Harry about the men and women Narcissa had dated over the last several years. Harry learned that Draco and Narcissa had traveled extensively after their hearing in hopes that the public would forget their name. Harry told Draco what Muggle primary school was like. Their conversations stayed light, though, never going into their dark family lives or their violent past with each other. 

Whenever Harry woke from a nightmare, he transferred his thoughts to Draco. Something about him had always obsessed Harry. But now instead of mindfulness to calm his brain, Harry thought of Draco’s appearance and his voice. More than once, Harry had a nice, long wank to the image of Draco. Then he would feel ashamed and dig out his porn magazines from his nightstand. “It’s just because we’re spending so much time together, and I haven’t gotten laid in weeks,” he told the dark bedroom one night. There was no answer. 

After nearly two months of evening meetings, including several with Blaise, Draco and Harry were ready to meet with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Minister. With Harry’s help, the pair had collected the requisite endorsements of the law from members of the Wizengamot. If Chief Warlock Dawlish and Kingsley approved the draft, it would be added to the Wizengamot’s agenda. 

The day of their meeting, Harry took a half-day from work. He went to collect Draco from his flat so they could arrive together. When he arrived, Draco was pacing the living room wearing nothing but trousers and socks. His toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth, and he kept looking through his files. 

Harry stepped out of the Floo and gawked. Though Draco was a thin man, he was also extremely muscular. His pecs were well-defined, and his arms looked like they could easily pin a man to the bed. At least, that’s what Harry thought when he saw the half-naked wizard. His normally impeccably combed hair was wet and ruffled. Harry’s cock twitched at the sight. Draco was gorgeous. But he had a few deep, old scars down his abdomen that filled Harry with shame. He swallowed, conflicted. 

“Ahneeahgefyfomagoga,” Draco said in greeting. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Draco took the toothbrush out of his mouth, and toothpaste dribbled down his chin. Harry had the urge to lick it off. “I need to get the file from McGonagall. I can’t find it.” 

Harry stepped around Draco and looked at the stack of papers on the table. He thumbed through them quickly and found the report McGonagall had given them about her experiences with abused children. “You mean this one?” 

Draco blinked. “Fuck off, Harry.” 

“Draco, you need to relax.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Harry held up his hand. “Go finish brushing your teeth and put on some fucking clothes.” So I don’t pop a boner right here. “Then we’ll go over everything before we leave. Do you have a Calming Draught?” 

Draco nodded. “Good idea. I think I have one.” He disappeared down the corridor and slammed a door behind him. Harry stretched out on his couch and flipped through the stack of papers. Everything was in order. Dawlish and Kingsley were good men; there’s no way they wouldn’t put this before the Wizengamot. Harry looked over Draco’s list of presentation spells and practiced taking charts off the paper and displaying them in the air. By the time Draco returned, he could do the spells wandlessly. 

“Show off.” 

Harry grinned and looked up at Draco. His hair was combed, and he was fully dressed. If he didn’t look so damn good in his suit, Harry would be disappointed that his chest was no longer bare. It took everything in him not to tell Draco how sexy he looked. 

“You’re not wearing that are you?” And with that, Draco was back to being an arse. 

Harry looked down at his attire. His jumper was fairly new, and his khakis didn’t have a stain on it. And his Converse were clean, too. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? This is what I wear to the Ministry every day.” 

“And the Auror Office is ridiculously lax with their dress code. But this is an important meeting with the two most powerful men in government.” 

“I've seen Kingsley Shacklebolt drunkenly karaoke Celestina Warbeck, and Dawlish has a pet cat that he baby-talks to. Forgive me if I'm not intimidated.” 

“Celestina, huh? Really? I want to hear about this later.” Draco glanced at the clock. “We’ve got an hour and a half. Do you own a suit?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I have dress robes.” 

“How old are they?” 

“About eight years, I think.” 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. Come with me.” He gestured for Harry to follow him then turned back toward the corridor. “Lucky for you, I’ve got several suits, and I think I know one that will look good with your hair and eyes.” 

Harry followed awkwardly behind Draco and paused as Draco entered his bedroom. His head spun. He was going to see Draco’s bedroom. Draco had paid attention to what would look good with his hair and eyes. And he was going to wear Draco’s clothes. “Um, Draco? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t built anywhere near the same.” 

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Huh? “A few quick spells, and it will fit you perfectly. Trust me, Blaise and I used to share clothes all the time at Hogwarts, and we’re built nothing alike.” 

Harry stood in front of the dresser while Draco rummaged through his closet. He took in his surroundings. Like the rest of the flat, the bedroom was sleek and modern. But the bed was unmade, and there were piles of clothes all over the floor. A collection of butterbeer bottles stood on the nightstand, and a towel was draped haphazardly over a television. He had a telly? Harry smiled. Draco Malfoy was a total slob. 

“Here you go. Put this on then I’ll adjust it for you.” Draco handed Harry a black, pinstriped suit, black Oxford shirt, and a Slytherin-green tie. “Leave your shoes out here, and I’ll transfigure them.” 

Harry said nothing, but he disappeared into the en suite. It was even messier than the bedroom, with towels and rags on the floor and bottles of all sorts of beauty products open and spilt. He shook his head and quickly undressed. The trousers fastened, barely. In the mirror, Harry noticed the pants looked like they belonged on a porn star. They were so tight. And long. Draco had to have four inches on Harry. The shirt fit like a muscle-shirt, and Harry was afraid the buttons would pop. He tied the tie quickly and put on the tight jacket that extended well past his wrists. 

When he reentered the bedroom, he felt shy and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say, and Draco just stared at him. And he continued to stare for a really long time. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for Draco to say something, anything. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Right. Well, you’re quite a bit taller than me.” 

Draco visibly shook himself and stood, brandishing his wand. “Yes, well, I’ll fix that in a moment.” With a few quick waves of Draco’s wand, Harry felt the clothes loosen, and the pant legs shrink. It took him a bit longer on the wrists of the suit jacket. He appraised Harry with a proud eye. “Much better. Now about the tie. Can you tie a double Windsor?” 

Harry shook his head. “Fine, let me. It looks much more professional.” 

Harry’s breath hitched as Draco stepped toward him. He smelled so good, and he was so close. Draco seemed to move slower and more carefully as he reached his hands toward the emerald tie. He unknotted it, and Harry was overwhelmed by desire. His cock became half-hard, and he was thankful Draco wasn’t looking down. Every inch of him wished Draco wouldn’t stop at unknotting the tie. He wanted Draco’s long, slender figures unbuttoning the shirt, reaching for his zipper. He was so close; Harry could easily tilt his head upward and kiss him. 

“There.” 

Draco stepped away. Harry had barely noticed Draco tying the tie to his satisfaction. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Draco really cared about the double Windsor, or if he had used some Slytherin conniving to get close to Harry. He pushed the thought aside. “Great. Ready to go?” 

The meeting with Kingsley and Dawlish went so well that Draco nearly jumped up and down like a schoolgirl when he and Harry exited the Ministry and blinked in the bright sunshine. It would still be nearly two months before the law hit the Wizengamot, but it was on the agenda, and copies of the law were being sent to every member. They encouraged Draco to go ahead and establish the charity so that training and public information could begin immediately if the law passed. Both officials seemed to think it would. 

“This is it, Harry! It’s finally happening! We did it!” 

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in the history of Wizarding Britain, there would be people to advocate for children like him. “You did it, Draco. I came in for the easy part.” 

Draco nudged Harry with his shoulder. “Whatever. Come on, let’s grab a pint and celebrate.” 

Harry followed Draco down the London street to a pub. A Muggle pub. Draco held the door for him, then they sat down at a small table in the low-light bar. A waitress took their orders, and Draco threw in an order of chips to share. Then he surprised Harry even further when he took out a Muggle bank card and opened a tab. 

“You have certainly embraced Muggle culture,” Harry commented. 

Draco shrugged. “I was fed a lot of lies growing up. We’re all humans. And did you know, it’s really only Britain and parts of Eastern Europe that haven’t embraced Muggle technology. Bank cards are brilliant! Carrying around piles of gold and silver coins is annoying. I wish Gringotts would come up with a better solution, but you know how goblins are. And I hate wizard fashion. Why would I want to wear robes that drape off of me and make me look thrice my sized?” 

He went off onto a discussion of his travels with Narcissa over the last decade, and Harry hung on his every word, enraptured. He wasn’t sure why he had never traveled abroad, and he mentioned this to Draco. “You really should. No one should live in a bubble. Trust me, I should know.” 

Harry had lost track of how much he had drunk since they arrived, and he certainly didn’t know what time it was. He nearly reached for his wand to cast a tempus charm, but he was sober enough to check his mobile instead. They had been at the pub for over three hours. 

“Harry...” Draco’s voice had changed from lighthearted and happy to sad. 

“Huh?” 

“Listen, I should apologize.” 

“For what? Getting me drunk?” 

Draco let out a giggle and hiccup. “No, silly. For...for everything. For, you know, before...” 

Harry did know, but he didn’t want to think about it. “You don’t have to...” 

“I do, though. Harry, Harry, Harry. Harry Potter. See, I was mean to you. So mean. And to Granger and Weasley, too.” 

“We were kids. And let’s not forget how I nearly killed year in sixth year.” 

“I was about to kill you, too.” 

Harry downed more of his drink. His heart had started racing, and he very much did not want to have this conversation. 

“But, but then you saved me. From the thing.” Draco gestured with his hands. “The fire. Fiendfyre.” 

“You saved me at the Manor,” Harry whispered. 

“Dark Lord was a dick. A big dick. I hated him. I wanted you to save us all. And you did. You really did. You’re so good, Harry. And I try to be now. But I wasn’t.” And then Draco burst into loud, sloppy, drunken tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.” 

“Okay, Draco, I’m cutting you off.” They were starting to get looks from the other patrons. Harry gestured to the waitress to close out the tab. He walked a crying Draco through signing his name then led him outside. They were both too drunk to Apparate, and they were nowhere near a Floo. He could hail the Knight Bus, but a drunk Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would feature in the next day’s Daily Prophet if he did. He had no Muggle money on him. “Draco, give me your wallet.” 

It took some prodding, but Draco managed to hand Harry his wallet. Harry was relieved to see a few twenty-pound notes inside, and he hailed a taxi to Draco’s flat. Draco began to undress the second they were inside, and Harry was far too drunk for this situation. His head swam as Draco flung off his trousers onto the sofa. His arse looked so good in his boxer briefs. His tie ended up on the floor, and he stumbled down the hall as he unbuttoned his shirt. Harry made sure Draco made it into the bed before Flooing back to Grimmauld Place. There, he collapsed into his own bed. He had a drunken wank as he though of Draco’s chest and arse and that strip of hair that led to so much more. Then he fell asleep, fully clothed, cock out, and dreamed of dying. 

Harry groaned as a loud tapping noise roused him from his sleep. He was convinced the noise was coming from inside his aching head, but as he came to his senses, he realized an insistent owl was at his window. “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he moaned as he pulled himself upright. Owl first, then hangover potion. 

It was Draco’s white-faced owl. Last night suddenly came flooding back to Harry, and he groaned again. At least Draco was alive this morning. He untied the letter from the owl’s leg and opened it. He blinked, trying to read it. 

A ten-pound note of Muggle money fell out of the envelope. “I’m British and can’t handle my gin. How embarrassing. Buy yourself coffee on me this morning.” 

Harry smiled. He fumbled in his nightstand for his glasses and a piece of paper. “Thanks. I’ll keep you away from gin in the future. I’m free this evening if you want to...” Harry paused. What exactly was he inviting Draco to do? He shook his throbbing head and scribbled “work on our statement to the Daily Prophet.” He sent the owl off with the note and stumbled into the toilet to find a hangover potion and a bath. 

Daisy’s birthday was coming up soon, and Harry wanted to take her to her first Quidditch game. He stopped by the Department of Magical Games to buy tickets to an upcoming Holyhead Harpies versus Falmouth Falcons game. He thought Daisy would enjoy seeing an all-women team play against a mixed gender team. After all, football wasn’t like that. And Draco’s favorite team was the Falmouth Falcons. On a whim, Harry bought three tickets. Even he wasn’t sure what he was he was doing. 

That night at Draco’s flat, he and Harry bent their heads together over a draft of a statement about the child services law. It was important to get this right. The wizarding public could be vicious in their letters to the editor; this was the most crucial step yet. But Harry kept losing himself in Draco’s smell and the drawl of his voice. 

“This sounds terrible. It reads like a textbook. It needs to be more personal.” Draco buried his head in his hands. For all his planning, he became easily overwhelmed. Harry resisted the urge to place a hand on his back. 

“You’re right. I’m not exactly a gifted writer, either. Maybe Hermione could help.” 

Draco looked up, boring his silver eyes into Harry’s. “Harry, please don’t get mad at this suggestion. And it wouldn’t be just you; I would, too. But I think you need to share your story about the Dursleys. Not all of it, of course. All the public really knows is that they were abusive. It was one-line in a story from nearly seven years ago.” 

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Draco was right. If people were going to see this law as good and not just a way for the government to stick their noses in people’s lives, they needed to hear a personal story. And as much as he wished it weren’t the case, Harry was the most influential celebrity available. But more importantly, Draco remembered that interview Harry had done and when it was written. How odd. “Fine. Let me write it out. Then you and Hermione can turn it into something worth reading. Just...give me a little time to do it.” 

Draco nodded. He understood. What he was asking Harry to do wasn’t easy. “Of course. Do you think Hermione will help? She is a great writer.” 

“Of course, she will.” Harry stood. “And since she’s a mother, it will be extra powerful.” He gathered his belongings to go home when he remembered the Quidditch tickets. “Hey, Draco?” 

“Yes?” 

“I have an extra ticket to the Holyhead-Falmouth game next Saturday. I know you like the Falcons. And it’s not like it’s a...I mean, I’m bringing my niece, and...but if you can’t or don’t want to...” 

“I’d love to.” 

“Yeah?” Harry couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. 

“Yeah. I haven’t been to a game all season. It will be nice.” 

“Great. Well, um. I’ll see you then. Or before. Or whatever.” 

“Have a good night, Harry.” 

“You, too.” 

Harry exited the Floo into his living room with a bounce in his step. It wasn’t a date, of course. There would be an almost six-year-old girl with them. But still, he was going to a Quidditch game with Draco. For the first night in weeks, Harry’s sleep was unplagued by nightmares.


	6. In Which Harry Finally Stops Being An Idiot

As if he were a student again, Harry procrastinated on his statement about the Dursley’s all week. It wasn’t just a potions’ essay he didn’t want to write. Writing this required Harry to confront some of the darkest parts of his past, something he had managed to avoid for a very long time. 

It was hard, harder than he thought it would be. Other than going to work, Harry didn’t leave the house. He told Draco he would meet with him once he finished. He missed Draco, but he was in no shape to be around anyone. He even blew off Saturday night with Ron and Hermione and Sunday lunch at the Burrow. 

The Friday night before the Quidditch game, Harry sat in his living room and stared at a blank piece of parchment. He was seeing Draco tomorrow. He had to write this. His thoughts drifted to Draco for a bit, and his daydream became so real that he could swear he could hear Draco calling his name. 

“Harry!” 

Harry blinked in surprise. He wasn’t imagining it. Draco’s face was floating in his fireplace. “Oh, hey.” 

Draco gave him an odd look. “Are you all right? I said your name several times.” 

“I’m fine. Just...thinking.” 

The expression on Draco’s face clearly said he didn’t believe Harry in the slightest. “If you’re sure. I was just wondering what the plan was for tomorrow. Do you want to meet at the game or before?” 

“Oh, right. I have to pick up Daisy. Want to meet around one at the stadium?” 

“Sure. Um, how is the thing going?” 

“Great. Yeah. I’ll have it to you tomorrow.” 

Draco smiled. “Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow at one.” His face disappeared from the flames, and Harry was once more left alone with his thoughts. He sighed. He had just given himself a deadline. There was no avoiding it any longer. 

Harry didn’t sleep at all that night. He had written down everything he could remember about his childhood with the Dursleys. He was sure that Draco didn’t need that much information, but once he started writing it down, he couldn’t stop. Tears flowed from his face as he wrote. He remembered the hunger pains he had felt so often. He remembered how it felt when Vernon and Petunia hit him. He remembered the fear he felt all the time. 

The tears didn’t stop even when he couldn’t write anymore. He undressed and lay on his bed, drained and exhausted. But sobs racked his body, and he had never felt more alone. He stopped crying sometime around the first light of Saturday morning. 

He felt an odd sort of peace when he finally pulled himself from the bed. It was like a hangover with a touch of catharsis. But when he looked in his bathroom mirror, he realized he looked terrible. His eyes were red and puffy with huge bags underneath. He didn’t want Daisy to see him like this, and he certainly didn’t want Draco to see him, either. Harry summoned Kreacher and asked him to make the strongest pot of coffee he could, then he rummaged through his cabinets to find some sort of potion to make him look presentable. He took extra care picking out his clothes and threw on a Harpies scarf. He folded the eight pages of parchment he had written the night before and stuffed them in his jacket pocket. 

He picked up an excited Daisy from Surrey. She was more excited about going to the Quidditch game than she was about her birthday party the next day. And she was thrilled to finally Apparate, although her parents were less sure. “You’re sure it’s safe?” Meredith asked for the hundredth time. 

“Completely.” I’ve never once Splinched myself, he thought. But he decided not to mention Splinching at all. 

The Dursleys stood in their living room to watch as Daisy Apparated for her first time. “Take my hand, Daisy. It feels very funny, but you’re safe with me.” Daisy nodded bravely and grabbed Harry’s hand. 

An instant later, they stood in front of the Holyhead stadium. Daisy wobbled on her feet for a moment and looked slightly green. But then she burst out a loud, “That was so cool!” and Harry knew she was fine. 

Draco waved at them from near the ticket booth, and Harry led Daisy over. He felt nervous, introducing Draco to a family member. He had not anticipated how great Draco would be with children. And when he handed Daisy a pair of bright pink Omnioculars, the little girl threw her arms around Draco’s legs. 

Harry enjoyed explaining Quidditch the wide-eyed girl. And he had Draco to help. Daisy couldn’t decide which team to root for because Draco cheered for the Falcons and Harry, out of loyalty to Ginny, cheered for Holyhead. So, Daisy cheered for both. 

Draco bought the trio a variety of Wizarding concessions to try, and Daisy thought chocolate frogs were the best thing ever. She looked at every card, and Harry decided he would give her his old card collection. When she opened her fourth card, she tugged on Harry’s jumper. “Uncle Harry? This is Rose’s dad.” 

Harry blushed. He had somehow managed to avoid talking about his fame with Daisy because he had no idea how to broach the subject. She had asked before why people snapped his picture when they were out. But he always changed the topic. “Yes, it is.” 

The precocious child read the card. “It says he is your best friend was croo-shal to your defeat of Vol-Volde...” 

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He had no idea what to say. Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. “She has no idea?” 

“She knows there was a war.” 

Draco nodded and bent down to talk to Daisy. “Daisy, did you know your Uncle Harry is very famous among the wizarding folk?” 

Daisy looked up at Draco, shocked. “No! How come? Is he on the telly?” 

Draco laughed. “No, he’s much more important than that. A few years ago, we had a very bad wizard.” 

“The one who killed the ice cream man?” 

Draco looked at Harry for an explanation, and Harry mouthed “Fortescue.” Draco smiled and nodded. 

“Yes, he killed the ice cream man and lots of other people. When your Uncle Harry was a baby, this bad wizard, Voldemort, tried to get rid of Harry. Harry lost his parents that night, but he was the only person who had ever survived Voldemort. He was so bad that people were afraid to say his name. They called him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named.” 

“Wow. He must have been very mean.” 

Draco agreed with a sad look in his eyes; he knew better than most people just how cruel Voldemort had been. “Very mean. Your Uncle Harry is sometimes called the Boy Who Lived.” 

“Is that why he lived with Daddy when he was little?” 

Harry chimed in. “Yes, I lived with them so Voldemort could not find me or hurt me. Your grandma is the sister of my mum.” 

“And you beat this Voldemort guy?” 

“Well, I had a lot of help, especially from Rose’s mum and dad. But yes.” 

“That’s so cool! Draco, did you help Uncle Harry, too?” 

Draco stared down at his hands. “No, Daisy. I made very bad choices when I was a kid. But thanks to your Uncle Harry, I got a second chance. So now I try to make good choices.” 

Daisy nodded knowingly. “Sometimes I make bad choices, like when I don’t let Brian play with my toys. But I try to make good choices, too.” 

Draco smiled, and then he pointed out Ginny scoring another goal. Harry felt a lump in his throat, and he had so many emotions that he couldn’t place. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Draco and hold him. Instead, he mouthed a thank you and Draco nodded. They turned their attention back to the game. 

It wasn’t long before Holyhead’s seeker caught the Snitch, giving a huge win to the Harpies. Daisy cheered along with all the fans, and it was so adorable that even Draco didn’t look disappointed. When Harry told Daisy that she was going to meet the Harpies’ chaser, she looked like she might burst. Harry led Daisy and Draco into the VIP section and down to the locker rooms. Harry, of course, was the only person in the crowd who didn’t have to show their VIP badge. Every now and then fame came in handy. 

Ginny met them outside of the locker room. She threw her arms around Harry. They had ended amicably years ago, both realizing that young love didn’t mean forever. Now, Harry mostly viewed her like a sister. Daisy was smitten by the Quidditch star, and she suddenly turned shy. But Ginny was sweet and bent down to talk to her. She gave her a photo of the whole team that every player had signed. 

She straightened and looked at Draco. “Malfoy.” 

He nodded back. “Weasley. Good game. Congratulations on the win.” 

“Thanks.” She wasn’t quite ready to warm up to Malfoy, but at least she wasn’t rude. She turned her attention to Harry. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?” 

He shook his head. “No, it’s Daisy’s birthday party. Ron and Hermione are bringing Rose and Hugo, too.” 

“Oh, that’s right. Well, let’s catch up soon. I’ll owl you. Happy birthday, Daisy!” 

They said their farewells, and Draco, Harry, and Daisy left the stadium. “Have a very happy birthday, Daisy,” Draco told the little girl. She hugged him goodbye. 

Harry took the parchment from his pocket and handed it to Malfoy. “Here’s the thing.” 

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” With a crack, Draco disappeared. 

Harry took an overjoyed and exhausted Daisy home, Apparating directly into the Dursley’s back garden. He promised he would see her tomorrow then headed home to collapse. Kreacher had dinner waiting. He ate quickly before he fell asleep on the sofa, exhausted from a busy day and a sleepless night. 

He woke around eight o’clock, confused from a deep sleep. As he tried to regain his senses, Draco Malfoy’s voice filled his living room. Harry looked toward the Floo. 

“Harry? Can I come through?” 

“Um, sure.” He attempted to flatten his hair and dusted his dinner crumbs off his jumper. A moment later, Draco stood in his living room. He crossed the room and pulled Harry into an unexpected embrace. Harry stiffened, shocked at the random display of affection. But Draco felt nice, and Harry had wanted to hold him in his arms for so long. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist. 

“I read your statement,” Draco said in Harry’s ear. “Oh, Harry. No child should have to go through that. And I was such a shit to you when we were kids. If I had known...” 

“It’s all right, Draco. It’s the past; it’s not important.” 

Draco stepped away from him. “Of course it’s important.” 

Harry shook his head. “I just try not to think about it. Live in the present and all that.” 

“And how has that worked out for you?” 

“Just fine.” Harry paused, thinking of his nightmares, his social anxiety, of the way he felt peace after writing and crying last night. “Well, maybe it’s not the healthiest coping mechanism. But I get by.” 

“Harry, I’ve really come to consider you a good friend.” 

Harry shifted on his feet. He was glad Draco felt that way, but an ever-growing part of him wanted so much more. “Me, too.” 

“But there is so much history between us—unpleasant history—and I feel like we need to talk about it.” 

Harry swallowed. It was so much easier when he hated Draco, when his past wasn’t beating him down constantly. But at the same time, life was so much better now that Draco was in it. “I’m not really good at this.” 

“That’s fine. Just let me talk. Let me apologize.” 

Draco sat on Harry’s sofa, pushing away the blanket from his earlier nap. Harry sat across from him on a wing-backed chair. He listened as Draco apologized for everything he could think of, all the way back to that first day at Hogwarts. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and Harry wanted nothing more than to wipe them away. 

He thanked Harry for saving his life and for testifying at his trial. “You gave me the chance to be better, just like I told Daisy today. I’ll always be indebted to you for that.” 

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated when people thought they owed him some life-debt. He had just done what he had to, what he thought was right. He told Draco as much. “And you saved my life, too. At the Manor. At the Battle, when you tossed me your wand. And Draco, I have so much to apologize to you for. I still feel so much shame about sixth year, when I--” His voice hitched. 

“I was about to kill you, too,” Draco replied. “I threw an Unforgiveable at you.” 

“I didn’t know what the spell did.” 

“I know. Snape told me.” He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “Harry, thank you for opening up to me in that statement. That can’t have been easy.” 

“I’ve never told anyone all of it before. Like I said, I try not to think about the past.” His eyes had welled with tears, and they threatened to overflow. He tried not to let them fall, tried to stay composed. 

Draco’s response was just a whisper. “I’ll listen. Anytime you want to confront the past, I’ll listen.” 

And the dam burst. Harry wasn’t strong enough to hold back his tears. He shoulders shook with his sobs, and he buried his head in his hands. He felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders. Draco didn’t offer him any words of condolence, didn’t tell him it was okay. Because it wasn’t okay. Harry and Draco both had more darkness in their pasts than anyone should have. Harry appreciated Draco’s silence more than anything. On the rare occasions he did break down in front of Ron or Hermione, they tried to comfort him with platitudes. It never helped. 

But Draco’s silence, Draco’s presence—it brought Harry more comfort than he had ever felt in his life. The two men cried together in silence for a long time, and Draco never stopped touching Harry. The clock struck ten, and Harry looked up, shocked that two hours had passed. He met Draco’s eyes, and they both stopped crying. 

In the next breath, they both fell into roaring laughter. For no good reason, they started laughing and couldn’t stop. Harry’s gut ached from the deep chortles, and Draco looked like he might piss himself. It felt good. Right. And the sight of Draco’s tear-stained face filled with a grin was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen. 

Ever a Gryffindor, Harry grabbed Draco’s collar and pulled him into a kiss. His lips crashed onto Draco’s, soft and inviting. It didn’t take more than half a second before Draco returned the kiss fervently. He parted his lip, letting Harry’s tongue slide inside. Harry pulled Draco onto his lap, never breaking contact with the blond man’s soft, sensual lips. He sucked and nibbled and felt Draco whimper into his mouth. 

He felt Draco’s hardness press against him as he straddled Harry, and Harry’s own erection strained against his trousers. He put everything in his soul into his kiss, and Draco began grinding his erection against Harry’s. Harry moaned, and Draco moved harder. He turned his head and exposed his neck to Harry, who kissed and nibbled all the way down to Draco’s collarbone. He sucked and bit, hard, and Draco let out an animalistic moan. 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry whispered. 

His words seemed to snatch Draco out of his pleasure, and the taller man quickly pulled away. He clambered off of Harry. “Sorry. We can’t. I just...I have to go.” 

“What the hell, Draco?” 

“I’m sorry. I need to leave.” He disappeared into the green flames of the Floo, leaving Harry alone and aroused and very, very confused. 

Harry slept fitfully and not much at all that night. Why had Draco left like that? Maybe he didn’t feel the same about Harry. But he had returned the kiss quickly and urgently. And he had definitely been hard. Was he seeing someone else? It was possible, but he had never mentioned it. Maybe he had never been with a man? But based on the Hogwarts rumor mill, he was pretty sure Draco was as pansexual as he was. 

After a night of tossing and turning, Harry still had no answers. He wanted to Floo straight over to Draco’s flat and demand an explanation. But he wasn’t sure that would help anything. He stared at his window, hoping Draco’s owl would show up. He took his breakfast in front of the fireplace, willing Draco to walk through it. But he never showed. 

Soon it was time to get ready for Daisy’s party. He had no desire to be around people today, but he would do it for Daisy. He dreaded seeing Ron and Hermione; they would instantly know something was wrong. By the time he showered and dressed, he still had not heard from Draco. He sent along a Patronus with a simple message: “I’ll be ready whenever you want to talk.” Then he collected Daisy’s gifts and headed to the Dursleys. 

Daisy was dressed in a pink dress and wore a tiara on her head when Harry arrived. She was excited for her first “magical” birthday. She would have a Muggle birthday party with her school friends next week. Harry wrapped her in a huge hug and handed her the gifts he had bought. She bounced off, and Harry sat next to Brian and played video games until Rose arrived. 

He tried to be as cheery as possible, but he knew that Ron and Hermione knew something was up the second they walked in the door. Ron patted Harry on the back, and Hermione flashed her, “we’ll talk later” look at him. Harry just smiled, trying to assure them he was fine. 

Daisy had insisted on pizza for her party, and she and Rose chatted nonstop. Hermione and Meredith hit it off well, and Ron somehow managed to be cordial to Dudley. Harry could tell it was hard; he had seen Dudley and his parents years ago, and Ron was always protective of Harry. When all the kids went upstairs to Daisy’s room, and Meredith and Dudley cleaned up the meal, Harry was left alone with his two best friends in the living room. 

“So, what happened with Draco?” Hermione asked. 

“What makes you think something happened with Draco?” Harry shot back. Hermione just fixed him with her hard stare. “Fine, okay, okay. We kissed.” 

“Finally!” Ron exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Then why are you upset?” 

Harry sighed. “I wrote that thing about my aunt and uncle, you know, so you and him can write the statement for the Prophet. Anyway, he read it and came over and hugged me. And we talked.” 

“About?” Hermione prodded. 

“Everything. Our past. And...and we cried. And then we laughed. And then I kissed him.” Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance. Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ron grinned. “Oh my god, guys. Did you bet on my love life again?” 

“I thought Draco would make the first move. Ron thought you would.” 

“I need new friends. Anyway, things were getting pretty, um, heated. And then he just pulled away and left. No explanation.” 

“You’re bent?!” 

The trio turned to see Dudley standing in the doorway. Meredith smacked her husband on the back of the head. 

“Is that a problem?” Ron asked, defensively. Hermione placed a hand on his arm to steady him. 

“No, not at all. I just didn’t know. I’m not my father, Harry. You know that.” 

“That seems to be the trend around here lately,” Harry replied. “And, I’m not strictly bent. I just don’t have a preference either way.” 

“Cool. Cool. So, the bloke just left?” 

Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands. “Why do discussions about my love life always end up with a huge audience?” 

“Because you’re emotionally immature and refuse to talk about things before they become a big deal,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. 

He was relieved when the kids bounded down the stairs demanding cake and ice cream. But he couldn’t quite muster his earlier cheerfulness. He grinned as Daisy opened her presents—a Holyhead Harpies scarf and an illustrated copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard. But he couldn’t wait to leave and sit at home, waiting for Draco to talk to him. 

By Wednesday evening, he still had not heard from Draco. He had sent several owls, finally just inquiring about their work. If he wouldn’t talk about the kiss, then at least he would talk about the project he had so fully dedicated himself to. And as badly as Harry wanted Draco, he’d rather just stay business partners than not have him in his life at all. 

He met Dudley and his family at a park instead of going to their house for dinner, as Brian had a footie game. He didn’t say much and cheered when he was supposed to. “Uncle Harry?” Daisy asked. 

“Hm?” 

“Are you sad?” 

Harry thought for a moment. He wanted to deny it. Daisy was just six, after all. But he thought of the way Draco told Daisy the truth about Harry and Voldemort. Daisy would know if he lied, anyway. “Yes, I’m sad.” 

She gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

She thought for a few minutes and watched her brother’s game. “Uncle Harry? Do you think Draco has ever been to a footie game?” 

Harry’s heart lurched. “I’m not sure.” 

“We should take him sometime, like you took me to the Quidditch game.” 

Harry just smiled, and Dudley and Meredith gave him a knowing glance. He shook his head. The game wrapped up shortly, and Harry gave Brian a big hug for playing so well. “Let’s go get ice cream,” Meredith said. 

Dudley pulled Harry back as they walked to the parking lot. “You don’t have to go get ice cream. You should go find that Draco bloke. We’ll see you next week, all right?” 

Harry walked through the park in Surrey and pondered how much his life had changed. He had spent so many years ignoring his past, running from it, afraid of it. And then it jumped up and surrounded him. But it wasn’t all that bad, he found. In fact, confronting his past had made him happier and more fulfilled than he had ever been. He had family. Real, blood-related, loving family. Sure, he had Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys. They would always be family. But he and Dudley shared a past that no one else would ever understand. Not a great past, by any means, but they still had the same roots. 

And he had Draco. Draco Malfoy, his former nemesis, an ex-Death-Eater, a boy he had nearly killed at sixteen, had brought a purpose into Harry’s life again. And somehow, that handsome wizard felt more like family than anyone else ever had. He laughed to himself as he found a deserted stretch of the park. Harry Potter was in love with Draco Malfoy. 

He Apparated directly to Draco’s flat and knocked on his door.


	7. In Which I Finally Give My Readers What They Really Want (SEX!)

Draco opened the door and sighed. “Hello, Harry.” 

“Are you going to invite me in?” 

“You’re not a vampire.” Draco stepped back from the doorway, allowing Harry entrance. Harry stepped into the open-air apartment. He had not been here in nearly two weeks, since the night Draco asked him to share his story. He had missed it. Draco stood in a white t-shirt and a pair of grey basketball shorts. Harry had never seen him so dressed down, and fuck, he looked good. 

“You didn’t respond to any of my owls.” 

“Bloody Gryffindor. I wasn’t ready to talk.” 

“Are you ready now?” 

“I suppose I have to be.” 

Harry waited for Draco to continue. They were still standing by the door, neither making a move to sit in the living room. The tension was palpable, and for the first time, Harry was actually afraid of what Draco would say. 

Draco sighed again and picked at some lint on his t-shirt. “It wasn’t how I imagined it.” 

“What?” 

“Kissing you.” 

“Oh.” Was Harry a terrible kisser and had never known? And Draco had imagined it? Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. Draco noticed how Harry’s face had fallen. 

“Oh, Merlin, no! It was amazing. Truly.” He stopped, and Harry was more confused than ever. “I just meant that, I imagined me taking you out to a romantic dinner and inviting you back here. And, well. I didn’t want our first time to be after we had just cried for two hours. I’m not a bloody Hufflepuff. And I was worried that it was just the heat of the moment, that you only kissed me because we had just been so emotional and sharing and...If the Slytherins could see me now...Merlin.” 

Harry processed this. Draco stared at the floor. “When exactly were you going to invite me out to a romantic dinner?” 

“I don’t know. I had been trying to muster the courage for weeks. And we did need to address everything between us first. But I’m not brave...” 

“Oh, Draco. Look at me.” Draco gazed up at him with sad, silver eyes. “You are so brave. You changed your life. You confronted your past, while I just ran away from it. You are single-handedly changing our government to protect children. You came to me the other night and poured your heart out. Don’t ever think you aren’t brave. 

“And it was you showing up and forcing me to face my past that gave me the courage to finally, finally kiss you. I want you, Draco. I have for months.” 

Draco’s face was unreadable, and though only a few moments of silence passed, Harry felt like it was an eternity. Finally, Draco spoked. Breathlessly, he whispered, “Well, we aren’t crying now.” 

He stepped forward and pinned Harry against the front door, his lips crashing onto Harry’s. Harry couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. How many times had he imagined being pinned by Draco’s strong arms? He returned Draco’s kiss with fervor, unable to get enough of his taste. Draco bit his bottom lip, and Harry pressed his waist against Draco so he could feel his erection. “Fuck,” Draco murmured. He released Harry’s arms and ran his hands over Harry’s chest. 

Now free to touch Draco as much as he wanted, Harry wound a hand in Draco’s perfect hair and pulled gently. Draco whimpered in response. Harry’s other arm slid down Draco’s back and grabbed the curve of his tight buttocks. He pulled Draco closer, grinding his pelvis against the taller man’s. Draco’s hands slipped under Harry’s jumper, exploring the firm muscles of his chest. When a hand found Harry’s nipples, Draco pinched, hard, making him let out an embarrassing, guttural noise. Draco giggled into Harry’s mouth. “You like that, huh?” 

Harry answered by tugging harder on Draco’s hair, making his neck easier to access. He sucked on Draco’s neck as he slipped a hand inside of the wizard’s waistband. Draco’s arse was smooth and firm, and he couldn’t wait to be inside of it. Draco tugged on Harry’s jumper and pulled it over his head, flinging on the ground. He pulled his neck from Harry’s mouth then peppered kisses and nibbles all over his chest. He flicked his tongue over one of Harry’s nipples then took the other in his mouth and teased it with his teeth. Harry bucked against Draco, wanting more. 

Draco trailed his tongue and hands down from Harry’s neck, over his abs, and onto the trail of dark hair below his navel. “Merlin, you’re fit,” Draco murmured as he began to fiddle with the button of Harry’s jean. “Want to show me what you’re hiding in here?” 

“Hurry up, you slag.” Harry’s voice was raspy, breathless. He looked down at Draco, and the sight of him on his knees was almost too much. Draco smirked up at him, his grey eyes twinkling. 

“My pleasure.” But Harry knew it was about to be his pleasure instead. Draco unzipped Harry’s jeans and tugged them down to below his buttocks. Harry’s thick erection pressed against his boxers, vying against the fabric for its freedom. Draco grabbed Harry’s cock through the thin cotton, and Harry gasped. “Fuck, you are thick. I can’t wait to take your huge cock up my arse. But first...” 

The dirty talk, the feel of Draco’s hand against his prick, the sight of him on his knees. It was all so good, so much better than Harry had imagined. He arched his back as Draco pulled down his pants. His full, aching cock bounded free, and instantly Draco’s hand had grasped the base. He brought his mouth to the very tip of Harry’s, ever so slowly. Finally, just as Harry considered yanking Draco’s head forward, Draco’s tongue darted over the head of Harry’s cock. “Ohhhh,” was all Harry could say. 

Draco sucked and licked while his right hand moved at the base of Harry’s erection. It was sensory overload, and Harry felt his knees weaken. Then, Draco added his left hand to the mix, fondling Harry’s swollen balls. Harry wound his hands in Draco’s hair to steady himself. As he did, Draco removed his right hand from Harry’s shaft and took him deeper into his mouth. Harry smirked, knowing exactly what Draco wanted. He used his hands to force Draco’s mouth back and forth over his cock, fucking his face faster and faster. Draco moaned, and the vibrations of it nearly sent Harry over the edge. 

“You’re a filthy little bastard, aren’t you?” Harry murmured. Draco grunted in agreement, taking Harry’s whole length down his throat. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, Draco.” 

In response, the hand fondling Harry’s balls worked its way further back toward Harry’s throbbing entrance. The soft tip of a finger circled the hole, and Harry bucked further into Draco’s mouth. He felt Draco smile around his cock. Draco may be the one on his knees, but he was also absolutely the one in control. Slowly, Draco inched a finger inside of Harry. Harry cried out at the sensation. It burned slightly, but he relished it. It only took a few more deep sucks before Harry felt his balls tighten. With a loud grunt, he spilled into Draco’s mouth. 

Draco swallowed and smirked. “So, the Chosen One likes to face-fuck. Who knew?” 

“You loved it.” 

“Mm.” He stood, towering a few inches over Harry. “We haven’t even left the doorway.” 

“Do you always jump your guests when they walk through the door?” 

“Only the sexy ones.” 

Harry pulled Draco down to kiss him. He could still taste his own saltiness on Draco’s tongue. Draco whimpered as he pulled away. “It’s your turn now.” 

Harry took Draco’s hand and guided him toward the leather sofa. He pushed Draco down on the sofa and admired the tented shorts in Draco’s lap. Harry was ready to take control now. “Touch yourself.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, but he pulled down his shorts. His long cock sprung forward, and Harry’s eyes widened. While it wasn’t as thick as his own, Draco’s prick was one of the longest he had seen outside of porn. Draco grinned as he took in Harry’s expression. “Scared, Potter?” 

“You wish.” Harry kicked off his shoes. “I thought I told you to touch yourself.” 

Draco obliged, wrapping a fist around his hardness. He never took his eyes off Harry, who used this time to finish undressing. He stepped out of his jeans and pants and admired Draco’s flushed cock. He licked his lips then stepped forward. He knelt in front of Draco and pulled away the other man’s hand, replacing it with his own. He and Draco locked eyes as Harry stroked, savoring the throb in his hand. Draco never looked away, and it was one of the most intimate experiences either wizard had had. Harry’s hand sped up, and Draco batted his hand away. “I don’t want to come yet.” 

Harry smiled. “Good. I want you to finish inside me.” 

Draco’s mouth crashed onto Harry’s. Harry grabbed the hem of Draco’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head then pulled back to admire. But he had somehow forgotten about the scars on Draco’s chest, the ones he was responsible for. Forgotten, or ran away from like he always did. He stared, guilt filling his chest and threatening to overtake him. 

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Draco stroked Harry’s face with one hand. “Shh. I forgive you. I do.” 

“I nearly killed you.” 

“But I lived. Most of them healed. These just remind me to better. Just like this.” Draco gestured toward his left forearm. Harry took in the Dark Mark, really noticing it for the first time. How Draco could live so fully with daily reminders of his past, Harry didn’t understand. He had spent so long running from his own past that he didn’t know anything else. Ten years after the war, Draco was the brave one. Harry wanted to be brave again, like Draco. He wanted to confront the past completely and accept it a part of himself. 

Draco said nothing; he waited for Harry to make the next move. Harry grabbed Draco’s left arm and pressed his lips against the Dark Mark. They had both been scarred by the same enemy, he realized. Draco gasped and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then Harry moved his gentle kiss to each of the scars on Draco’s chest. He vowed to himself that he would stop running. He let his lips brush against Draco’s lightly then pulled away with a grin. 

“That’s quite enough Hufflepuff for one night, don’t you think?” Harry asked. 

“Indeed.” 

Harry lowered his mouth to Draco’s softening cock, determined to restore the earlier mood. It didn’t take long before Draco hardened again. Harry wrapped his mouth around Draco’s balls and swirled them over his tongue. Draco’s moans grew louder. Harry dropped onto his hands and positioned Draco’s legs over his shoulders. A small, pale ring was exposed to Harry fully now. He whispered a wandless cleansing spell, and Draco shivered as it flooded through his core. Then Harry lowered his head and put his lips around Draco’s entrance. Draco clutched Harry’s hair in ecstasy. 

Slowly at first, Harry swirled his tongue around the puckered flesh. “Fuuuuuccckk,” Draco breathed. Smiling at Draco’s pleasure, Harry sped up his efforts, licking, sucking, kissing, and darting his tongue inside of Draco. 

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck shit Merlin fuck.” Draco was moving his hips, eager for more. “Oh, fuck, Harry. You’re so good at that.” 

Harry pulled away to take in the sight of a panting, sweating Draco. He met Draco’s eyes and licked his lips. “You’re delicious.” 

“You’re such a bloody show off with that wandless magic.” 

Harry shrugged. “It comes in handy.” 

“Yes, well. You’re not the only with some tricks up his sleeve. Bend over the sofa.” 

“Bossy git.” But he did as he was told. 

Draco just smirked and reached for his wand. He cast a spell Harry had never heard, but a moment later, Harry felt warm, thick liquid cover his entrance. “This one comes in handy, too,” Draco whispered. He ran a slick hand over Harry’s back and arse cheeks. Then that one amazing finger found its way inside Harry again. Harry didn’t try to contain the cry that escaped his throat. He felt his cock swell, eager for more already. 

A second finger entered, and Harry pushed back against Draco’s hand. He heard Draco chuckle, but he was quickly losing himself to the sensation. This time, Draco found the small spot of pleasure, and Harry’s cries bordered on screams. Draco slipped in a third finger, flexing them to fully stretch Harry, who was panting. “Fuck me, Draco. Fuck me now.” 

He threw his head back as he felt the tip of Draco’s slick cock rub against his entrance. He pushed back as Draco pushed in, guiding him in as far as he would go. Draco moved slow, too slow, until Harry shouted, “Fucking give it to me, Malfoy!” 

And Malfoy did. He ran his nails over Harry’s back as he fucked him harder, faster. Harry’s moans were punctured with sobs of satisfaction. “You’re so fucking tight, Potter.” 

Harry clenched in response, and Malfoy let out a shout of pleasure. He smacked Harry’s arse with one hand and pulled his hair with the other. Harry had never felt such a satisfying fullness. He was almost certain Draco’s cock was tailormade for his arse. 

Draco sped up and leaned forward, his chest against Harry’s back. One strong hand reached around to Harry’s front and grabbed the thick prick that Harry had been rutting against the arm of the sofa. He tugged Harry’s cock in rhythm with his fucking. Both men panted and moaned and cried out strings of nonsensical obscenities. When Draco bit Harry’s shoulder, Harry spilled over Draco’s hand. With just a few deep thrusts, Draco came, hard, and cried out Harry’s name. He pulled out and ran a hand through his hair, enjoying watching his cum drip out of Harry’s perfect arse. 

Harry let out a laugh as he straightened and turned to face Draco. He pulled his naked lover into his arms and kissed him. He didn’t remember the last time felt so sated. Draco pressed his forehead against Harry’s. “That was...” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I don’t remember the last time I came twice that quickly.” 

Draco smirked. “What can I say? I’m talented.” 

Harry smacked his arse. “You should use your talents to get me a glass of water.” Draco rolled his eyes and bent down for his wand. He summoned two glasses from the kitchen and filled them both with a wordless aguamenti. “Oh, right. Magic.” 

“Fuck a lot of Muggles, then?” 

“Mostly. I’m anonymous in the Muggle world.” 

“I get that.” Draco sat on the sofa and pulled Harry down next to him. Harry snuggled up under Draco’s arms, amazed at how natural it felt. Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s head. “Well, now you can use all the sex magic you want.” 

Harry smiled. “You need to teach me that lube spell.” 

“Why? So you can show me up at my own invention?” 

Harry looked at Draco in surprise. “You invented that spell? That’s impressive.” 

“Well, I am Draco Malfoy, after all. Impressive is my middle name. But really, it’s just a modified aguamenti. I’ll teach you the incantation, but you just need to imagine a thicker substance. It’s safe for toys, too.” 

Harry’s prick jumped at the mention of toys but quickly settled back down, spent and exhausted. “Toys, eh?” 

“There’s plenty of time for that. Next time, the only toy I want is that thick cock of yours up my arse.” Draco ran a hand up Harry’s bare thigh. 

“We’re doing this, then?” 

Draco sighed. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me turn into a bloody, cuddly badger. Next thing you know I’ll be wearing yellow and black. But yes, I’d like to do this. All of it, not just the sex, although that shag was the stuff of legends.” 

“I want to do this, too.” 

“Stay the night with me?” 

Harry swallowed. It had been a long time since he stayed overnight, usually slipping out after a shag. And he certainly had not shared a bed with anyone since his nightmares had returned. But Draco was warm, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up beside him in the morning. Brave, he reminded himself. “All right.” 

Draco smiled and stood up from the couch. “Come on. I’m exhausted.” He walked down the hallway toward his bedroom, and Harry followed, limping a bit. His arse was sore, but he didn’t regret it for a bit. Totally worth it. 

In the bedroom, Draco noticed Harry walking funny. “Oh! I’ve got something for that. You’ll love it. I got the recipe off a bloke in the States. Brilliant potioneer and one kinky fucker.” 

He disappeared into the loo, and Harry could hear him rummaging through a cabinet. He stood awkwardly waiting, stark naked and feeling vulnerable. Draco returned a few moments later and held out a tin. “It’s a dittany salve, but there’s no burn. You’ll be right as rain within a couple minutes.” 

“Great. I’ll just, um--” Harry gestured toward the toilet and limped past Draco. He closed the door behind him and opened the tin. He let out a small moan as the salve healed him. Draco was right; he felt better almost instantly. He washed his hands and opened the medicine cabinet to place the salve inside. A familiar bottle caught his eye. Yes, just a few drops, and Draco wouldn’t have to know about his nightmares, at least, not yet. 

Harry swallowed down the bitter Dreamless Sleep and rinsed out his mouth with some Muggle mouthwash by the sink. He took a quick piss and returned to Draco’s room. Draco was already under the covers, reading a book while he waited for Harry. 

“All right?” 

“Yeah. Tired.” Harry felt self-conscious as he slipped into the bed next to Draco. But the other wizard inched closer to cuddle up against him. Draco’s sheets were exquisite and probably cost a fortune. “What are you reading?” 

“Newt Scamander’s biography. He’s fascinating. I always read before bed. It helps calm my mind down enough to sleep.” He leaned down to kiss Harry, who melted under his touch. Sleep wasn’t far off, not when Draco felt this good. 

Harry yawned. “You’re a bloody swot. You and Hermione should get along great.” 

“If she can forgive me,” he heard Draco whisper as sleep overtook him. Harry didn’t budge until Draco’s alarm went off in the morning. 

Harry was confused when he woke. A warm body was draped over him and something firm pressed into his hip. He blinked a few times and took in the modern bedroom. “Oh, right.” 

Draco grunted at the noise and spooned Harry tighter, but he didn’t wake. Harry fumbled for his wand to cast a tempus charm. 7:45. He really needed to get up so he could get dressed and make it to work on time. But Draco’s bed was soft, and Draco was warm. It felt comfortable. He could get used to this. 

He extricated himself from Draco’s vice-like cuddling and stumbled into the bathroom. He smelled like sex. He fumbled with the shower knobs and let the warm water run over his body. He leaned his head against the wall of the shower and replayed last night’s events in his head. Fuck, Draco had been one hell of a shag. He hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time, maybe ever. It was intense and emotional and hot. 

“Good morning,” a cool, dignified voice sounded from the bathroom, jerking him out of his thoughts. 

“Good morning,” Harry called over the sounds of the shower. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

Harry’s cock leapt at the thought. “Please do. But I have to be at work by nine, so don’t distract 

me too much.” 

Draco pulled back the shower curtain and flashed that devilish smirk at Harry. “What do you take me for, Potter? Some kind of slut?” He climbed in, and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s fit waist. 

“Yes. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He kissed Draco under the shower’s steady stream, and Draco melted against him, his hard cock pressing against Harry’s stomach. Harry slid down to the slipper floor and wrapped his mouth around Draco’s delicious penis. 

It didn’t take long for Draco to come, and Harry swallowed down every bit of his release. He stood, and Draco kissed him. Then he lathered Harry’s body with soap, using it as lube when he got to Harry’s penis. Harry came in an embarrassingly short time; he’d been horny since he woke up. 

By the time they made it out of the shower, Harry had only thirty minutes to get dressed and get to the Ministry. Draco scourgified his clothes for him, then transfigured his jumper into a Slytherin green. “So no one knows you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes.” 

“Had to pick that color, huh?” 

“It goes with your eyes.” Draco shifted and cast his eyes to the floor. “Will you...” 

“What?” 

“Will you come back tonight?” The words ran together, and Harry hadn’t expected Draco to be nervous. Harry pulled him close and kissed him. 

“For work or for pleasure?” 

“Both?” 

“I was hoping so. I’ll pick up dinner. See you later.” He kissed Draco one more time for good measure and Apparated away to the Ministry entrance.


	8. In Which Harry Has A New Beginning

Years spent beating death and fighting evil created a unique bond, and Harry was still in the habit of rushing to his best friends whenever something major happened. He checked his desk for any new cases—there were none—then rushed down to Hermione’s office. She was meeting with a goblin representative, and Harry paced up and down the hallway waiting for her to finish. When the goblin finally left, Harry pushed into her office, slammed the door, and cast a silencing spell. 

It was a good thing he did, too, as Hermione let out a string of obscenities about the rude goblin she had just encountered. But then she shook herself and smiled at Harry. “You look like you’re about to burst. You finally slept with him, then?” 

Harry nodded. “And how was it?” 

He blushed a little but answered. “So fucking good. I...stayed the night. It’s real, Hermione. We’re like dating or whatever.” 

Hermione leaned back in her desk chair and studied her best friend. He knew he looked happy and sated. She couldn’t wait for him to just admit he was head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy, and she hoped Malfoy felt the same way. It was weird, but it made sense in a way. After all their shared history, their obsession with each other, it just fit. 

“Good. Well, you should invite him over Saturday night. It’s about time we get to know him. You know, as more than the Slytherin bully.” 

Harry recalled what Draco had said as he drifted off to sleep last night. “Can you forgive him, Hermione?” 

Hermione thought for a moment. “I think I already have, Harry. I couldn’t carry around that weight for this long. And knowing how coerced he was, well, yes. I can.” 

“And Ron?” 

“Ron may never like Malfoy. But he’ll be fine.” She would ensure it. “I’m happy for you, Harry. And Ron will be, too. Now, I really must get back to work.” 

“Who won the bet?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Ron, again. I’ll have to wager on your marriage, I suppose.” 

Harry shook his head, laughing as he returned to his office. He got through another slow day then stopped to pick up Indian takeaway before returning to Draco’s flat. 

He found Draco bent over a mound of paperwork at the dining table. He hadn’t heard the Floo, or if he had, he chose not to acknowledge Harry. Harry took a minute to appreciate the beautiful blond man who was lost deep in thought. He twirled his quill in his fingers and sighed over and over. Harry had grown to love watching Draco concentrate. He reminded him of Hermione when she studied, with an added air of confidence and a tinge of arrogance. 

“Hope you like biryani!” Draco didn’t enjoy being interrupted when he was deep in thought like this, but food was always welcome. He looked up at Harry, confused for a moment, then smiled. 

“You know I do. Come here, I’ve been waiting less-than-patiently for you all day.” 

Harry sat the food on the table and let Draco pull him down for a hello kiss. It felt right and normal, like they had been doing this for a long time. They had, of course, been meeting up for a while now. But the kissing was new, and Harry liked it very much. He prolonged the kiss as much as he could before he was interrupted by his stomach. “I’m hungry. What are you working on?” 

“The paperwork for starting a charity. It’s a bureaucratic nightmare.” He pushed the papers aside as Harry summoned plates and forks fromt he ktichen. He rummaged through the takeaway bag. “Did you get raita?” 

“Of course. I didn’t think I’d be welcome without it.” 

Draco smiled. “You wouldn’t. It’s such a simple sauce, but it’s so good. Ooo tamarind chutney!” 

Harry and Draco ate, chatting about anything and nothing. He asked Harry about his day, and he seemed genuniely interested to hear about it. “I suppose it’s a good thing that work has been slow. Means less dark wizards and whatnot, right?” 

Harry shrugged. “Or they’ve gotten better at hiding their tracks. That’s usually the case. It’s always the same.” 

“Do you still enjoy it?” 

Harry paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. The question took him off-guard. No one ever asked him if he still enjoyed the Aurors. He was Harry Potter, after all. Everyone seemed to think he was destined to spend his life fighting dark wizards, having vanquished the worst of the lot at only seventeen. In fact, he hadn’t even asked himself this. But now, Draco’s question opened up a lot of feelings he had not realized he had. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“No, it’s just...well, no one has ever asked me that before. I’ve never thought about it.” He finished the bite of rice then sat the fork down. He placed his elbows on the table and lay his chin in his hands. “It should be an easy answer, right?” 

Draco shrugged. “If it’s not an easy answer, what does that mean?” Harry didn’t respond for a while, and Draco ate in silence. “What would you be doing if you weren’t an Auror?” 

“I don’t know. Something fulfilling, something that makes a difference.” 

“Bloody Gryffindor,” Draco teased. 

“Says the man starting a charity and passing a law to protect wizarding children from abuse. Who is the Gryffindor now?” 

Draco shrugged. “Perhaps it’s not about honor. Perhaps it’s only about absolution, a chance to take control where I never had it before.” 

“I don’t believe that’s it. A part of it, sure. But I think you are really just trying to do the right thing for people who need it most. I want that. Oh, sure, fighting dark wizards is noble and all that. But don’t you think I’ve done enough of that? I spent the first eighteen years of my life fighting Voldemort, for god’s sake. Maybe I want control and absolution, too, come to think of it.” 

He felt inexplicably angry. Not at Draco, but at the life that seemed to have been chosen for him. He was fifteen when he first considered being an Auror. He hadn’t even been sure he would live long enough to become one. And he had more experience fighting evil than anyone else his age. But he was a child. And he was a child when Kingsley had told him and Ron that their war experience counted in lieu of their NEWTS. His path was chosen. 

Draco placed a hand on his arm. “You’re making a difference now, with this.” He gestured at the paperwork. “I need help. I can’t run the charity alone, and I want to be hands-on with the children and the training when we start. I don’t want to pressure you into this. I want it to be your choice. But will you run the charity with me?” 

Harry met Draco’s grey eyes, the ones that used to sneer at him now held only kindness and warmth. Running a charity with Draco. Dating Draco. Life had taken a whole new turn. He had only intended to lend his name and support to this project, but now Draco offered him a new direction in life. “Yes.” 

Their Indian food soon forgotten, Draco launched himself into Harry’s lap. It wasn’t long before they made their way to the bedroom, an intense repeat of last night’s events. It was Harry who made love to Draco this time, eyes gazing into Draco's as he entered him. If Draco had felt made to fuck Harry, well, Harry might be even more made to fuck Draco. It was everything Harry had always craved from a shag but never gotten. 

Harry took a few more drops of Dreamless Sleep that night, knowing that he couldn't continue for long. But Draco had asked him to stay again, and he wanted to, more than anything. Draco read while Harry watched him. Draco’s lips would turn up a little at the corners when he read something amusing. His brow would furrow in serious parts. And occasionally he’d say, “Listen to this,” and tell Harry some new fact with excitement. He was such a swot, and Harry wondered if he had been this way in school. If only he and Hermione had gotten on...Hermione! 

“Draco?” 

“Mm?” 

“Hermione invited you to come over Saturday night.” 

Draco put the book down over his chest and turned his head to look at Harry. “Really?” 

“Yes. Her idea. But if it’s too soon or...” 

“No, no it’s fine. Are you certain it will be okay?” 

Harry leaned in to kiss Draco’s worries aside. “Yes, I really am certain.” 

“All right then.” He placed his book on the nightstand and extinguished his lamp. “I’m tired. Some brute of a man decided to ride me like a Firebolt. Good night, Harry.” 

“Good night, Draco.” Harry lay staring at the ceiling for a bit. He should have taken a bit more of the Dreamless Sleep, but he didn’t want to fall asleep so quickly that Draco knew he had taken a potion. He thought about quitting the Aurors, about the charity, about Draco. He was falling in love, was probably already there if he would just admit it to himself. 

He fell asleep thinking of Draco’s kiss. 

The next day, Harry checked in at his desk—nothing again—before heading to the Minister of Magic’s office. He sweettalked Kingsley’s secretary into slipping him on the agenda, but it didn’t take much. The cheery brunette liked him and was a bit starstruck, even after several years in this role. 

When Harry entered Kingsley’s office, he noticed how little had changed in here since the end of the war. Somehow, Kingsley had barely aged; it must be that his bald head didn’t have any hair to turn grey. He had redecorated the office only once—after he was given the position officially. It felt comfortable, which was good, because Harry was nervous. He always left ceremony at the door with Kingsley, old war buddies and whatnot. But today, he did not collapse in the oversized blue armchair. He stood nervously. 

“Harry, my boy. Good to see you. Is everything all right?” 

“No. Well, yes. Well, see the thing is...” Harry ran a hand through his hair. He had never been eloquent, but he could usually at least get a sentence out. He took a deep breath. “I’m resigning from the Aurors.” 

Kingsley leaned back in his chair and studied Harry. “I see. May I ask why?” 

“I’m running the charity with Dra—Malfoy.” 

“Don’t you think you should wait to see if the law passes before you resign? I think it will, but throwing aside your career on a probably seems rash.” 

It did. Harry knew this. But even on the off-chance they didn’t succeed, Harry had more than enough money to thrive while he figured out what he wanted to do. “I know, but it’s not just the charity. I haven’t felt happy here in a long time. Fulfilled, rather. I just...I want a chance to see what my life could be without fighting Dark Wizards.” 

The MInister nodded. “Very well, Harry. Your ten years of service have been outstanding here, not to mention all you did before. You’ll always have a place here should you choose to return.” 

Harry blinked. He had not expected this to be so easy, but it was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He wasn’t the type of man to force anything on anyone. It’s why he was such a successful Minister. “Thank you, sir. Um, the Prophet article goes up next week. I’d like to wait until then to announce it. And I can finish out my duties here for...” 

Kingsley waved his hand. “We are slow right now. Go ahead and leave. We won’t announce it before you’re ready. Everyone will just assume you’re on holiday.” 

Harry felt larger than life when he left the MInistry. He blinked in the bright sunshine. He was unemployed. Well, for now. But he was freer than he had ever felt, and he only had Draco to thank for it. He turned down an abandoned alleyway to Apparate back to Draco’s flat. 

Draco was still in bed, and he bolted upright at Harry’s entry, the sheet draped over his legs and hips. He was a sight, somehow looking both innocently sleepy and sexily debauched. “What’s wrong? Why are you back so soon?” 

“I quit!” 

“Already? Glad to see that rashness your house is famous for didn’t wear off after puberty. Well, how do you feel?” 

Harry kicked off his shoes and pulled his jumper over his head. “Free! Like Dobby given a sock, free!” 

Draco grinned. “Well, get over here. You deserve a celebratory blowjob.” He patted the bed next to him with a sly smile. It didn’t take long for Harry to remove his trousers and pants and climb into the bed next to Draco. 

Draco climbed on top of Harry, bracing his hands on either side of Harry’s head. His cock was already hard against Harry’s stomach. He brought his lips to Harry, and he kissed him, gently at first, teasing. He licked his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, and Harry opened his mouth, inviting him in for more. The kiss grew more heated, and Harry pushed Draco’s hips down so their cocks could touch. Draco nibbled Harry’s earlobe, eliciting a most undignified sound from Harry’s mouth. 

He rolled his hips, and the friction of his cock against Harry’s was electrifying. Slowly, he worked his nibbles down to Harry’s collarbone, his chest, his nipples. Merlin, how had Harry never known his nipples were such an erogenous zone? When Draco finally reached Harry’s lower region, Harry placed his arms behind his head and looked down the length of his body. Draco smirked and licked his lip. He twirled his fingers in the soft mound of hair at the base of Harry’s penis. He lowered his mouth and planted soft kisses on Harry’s inner thighs. Slytherin fucking tease, Harry thought. 

A wet tongue swirled up Harry’s balls before finally licking up his hard shaft. Draco stared deep into Harry’s eyes as he swallowed him down, daring him. Harry knew what he wanted, but he could play a tease, too. Draco moaned as he took Harry deeper and faster. When the blond eventually let out a sound that resembled a whine, Harry laughed. “You’re such a cock-whore.” 

But he intertwined his fingers in Draco’s hair and moved Draco’s head up and down, faster and faster. He could feel Draco nearly choke, could feel the tight muscles at the back of his throat constrict. But he never stopped. Briefly, Harry wondered how many men Draco had practiced this on. But he pushed the thought away and lost himself in fucking Draco’s perfect, tight mouth. 

Draco groaned around Harry’s cock, and Harry looked down. He realized that Draco had a hand wrapped around his own swollen prick, rubbing himself while pressed against the mattress. It was enough to send Harry over the edge. With a shout, he spent himself in Draco’s mouth. Draco swallowed but didn’t stop sucking. Harry kept moving his head up and down until he felt Draco tense. His lover moaned and shuddered. 

After a quick scourgify, the two men cuddled against each other on the bed. Cuddling had never been one of Harry’s favorite activities, but he remembered Seamus’s words years ago. “When you find the right person, you’ll enjoy it.” Seamus was right. Harry couldn’t get enough of Draco’s body, not just in a sexual way. He just wanted to be constantly touching him. 

“I’m proud of you, Harry.” Draco’s voice was little more than a murmur. His eyes were heavy with sleep. 

“For what?” 

“For doing what you wanted for once in your life. I know how hard expectations can be.” But before Harry could respond, Draco had drifted back to sleep. Harry yawned, and decided he would enjoy his first day free with a post-blowjob nap.


	9. In Which Harry Once Again Pretends His Anxiety Doesn't Exist

Loving Draco was an experiment in unlearning everything Harry thought he knew and rebuilding his world brick by brick. The boy who had spent his Hogwarts years sneering and belittling everyone he viewed as lesser had turned into a man who couldn’t do enough for the people he cared about. Harry suspected that if he were lucky enough to be with Draco the rest of his life, Draco would still surprise him. 

And Draco loved surprising him. When Harry woke from his nap hours later, he found Draco digging through his closet, looking for something specific and throwing anything that was not his goal on the floor. He muttered something about finding the right one when Harry inquired. Harry shook his head and waved his wand, his wordless cleaning spells straightening Draco’s mess. 

Draco finally emerged with a satisfied smirk on his face and two suits draped over his arms. “Found them.” 

“Merlin, Draco. How many suits do you own?” 

“Not enough. What can I say? I look good in them.” 

Harry had to agree. “Why do we need suits?” 

“I’m taking you out to celebrate tonight, obviously. Honestly, Harry. Did you think you would quit your job and we’d just eat the same old takeout and watch the telly?” Harry rolled eyes.“Anyway, I’m taking you out. I have a wonderful celebration planned.” 

“But I have to wear a suit?” 

Draco shrugged. “You have to dress appropriately. It’s possible I planned an evening that would require you to wear a suit because you looked so damn good in one a couple weeks ago. Here, get dressed.” He handed Harry the navy suit with thin, white pinstripes. He was to pair it with a white Oxford shirt and the loveliest blue silk tie Harry had ever seen. He didn’t even know what to call all the shades of blue. 

Draco wore a stunning grey suit that matched the shade of his piercing eyes exactly. He opted for a black shirt and purple tie. The suit fit him like a glove, accentuating all of his best features. Harry tried not to gape. Draco was one of the hottest men Harry had ever had the pleasure of encountering. When he was satisfied with the fit of Harry’s magically-tailored suit, he held out his arm to Harry. 

It was only the afternoon, and Harry had no idea where they would be headed so early in such attire. But Draco Apparated them to a small alleyway in London where they could smell the Thames. Harry wrinkled his nose. Draco led him to a small, riverside pub and ordered a bottle of champagne. He toasted Harry’s new career path and decision to make his own way in life. They drank and chatted until the sky began to shift into a pale yellow and orange. It was nice, just being out on a date with Draco. 

Draco then led him to the river for a sunset boat ride down the Thames. They held hands as they watched the sun settle down behind the London backdrop. When the boat let them off, Draco didn’t let go of his hand as he took him to a restaurant for dinner. A Michelin-starred restaurant. 

Harry paused outside, gaping at the sign on the door. He’d never been to one of these restaurants, never had a reason to. No date had ever seemed worth it. But he’d heard so many great things about the French restaurants with waitlists and three-course dinners. He felt, well, special. 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked him. 

“I’ve never been to a restaurant like this. Don’t they have weeks-long waits?” 

Draco shrugged. “I can usually get a table here. They know I tip well. I just thought such an auspicious occasion deserved a meal to match.” 

Harry pulled Draco toward him and poured his gratitude into a kiss right there on the street. When Draco stepped away, he looked well and truly dazed. “Right then. Shall we?” He held out his arm to Harry and together they entered the restaurant, their first-time dining as a couple. The maitre-d' greeted Draco as Mr. Malfoy, and Draco introduced Harry as his boyfriend. Harry couldn’t stifle the grin that spread over his face. He had acquired many titles in his twenty-eight years—The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Savior of the Wizarding World, Auror, One-third of the Golden Trio. But he thought that Draco Malfoy’s boyfriend might be his favorite title yet. Merlin, he had it bad. 

The meal was divine, but Harry couldn’t stop thinking about his feelings for Draco. He loved watching Draco sip wine and comment on its “notes.” He loved the way Draco chewed each bite deliberately, thoroughly enjoying each flavor. He loved the way he dotted those delicious lips with his napkin. He loved how Draco smiled politely at the waiters. 

“I love you.” 

Draco paused with a forkful of crème brulee halfway to his mouth. Harry’s eyes widened, and he felt a blush creep up his neck. Shit, he thought. I said I love you on our first real date. Smooth, Potter. Draco set his fork down and stared at a red-faced Harry. Maybe he could cover it up. “I mean, I love this crème brulee.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew he had failed at passing off his declaration of love. He changed plans. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait a while to tell you. I certainly wasn’t going to do it on our first date. And now I’ve gone and ruined this perfect evening and...” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Oh.” 

“I just wanted to see you flounder a bit. It was quite amusing.” 

“Bastard.” 

Draco shrugged and flashed Harry a flirty smile. “That may be. But I’m your bastard. How long were you going to wait to tell me?” 

“I don’t know. Sometime far less embarrassing than two days into this relationship. What about you? When were you going to tell me?” 

“Oh, I was waiting for you to say it first. I didn’t want to sound like an idiot.” He gestured to the waiter and requested more wine. “And I do suspect that our relationship isn’t quite typical. So, screw typical timelines.” 

The waiter filled their glasses with a bubbly, sweet wine that vaguely smelled of almonds. “To us,” Draco lifted his glass. 

Harry smiled. “To us.” 

Harry’s chest was tight and his heart pounded in his chest when he woke. He tried to steady his breathing and stay wrapped up under the blankets in Draco’s bed. Draco’s head rested on his chest, and he really didn’t want to disturb him. But anxiety was creeping up, and he had to get away. 

He pulled himself out of Draco’s embrace and stood, taking special care to stretch all his tense muscles. Why on earth did he feel this way? He pulled on a pair of boxers and thought. Well, Draco was meeting Hermione and Ron today. Not meeting, per se. But being reintroduced years later...and as Harry’s boyfriend. It was a terrifying prospect. If Draco had been awful to Harry in school, he had been even worse to Ron and Hermione. Especially Hermione, what with the whole mudblood business. 

To top it off, Harry realized that he had taken Dreamless Sleep three nights in a row. He had to stop or risk an addiction. Maybe he could find a way to tell Draco he wanted to sleep alone. He looked at the sleeping blond and remembered last night. Yeah, he wasn’t sure there was an excuse good enough to get rid of Draco for a night. 

His breathing quickened; he felt like was going to suffocate, though Draco’s bedroom was quite open and a pleasant temperature. He quietly recused himself from the room and made his way into the living room. He needed to calm himself down. 

Harry perched on the sofa with crossed legs. He closed his eyes and counted his breaths, focusing only on the inhales and exhales. When he felt his heart rate slow a bit, he took an inventory of his body, paying careful attention to what was tense. He pushed every non-mindful thought out of his head; after so many years, he had become quite skilled at meditation. Then, he concentrated on all of his senses. He could hear the ticking of the clock and muffled voices from the down the hall of the building. He took note of the way the leather cushion felt under his rear. He could smell the leather and wood of Draco’s furniture. 

“What are you doing?” 

Harry’s eyes flew open. Apparently, he could not hear a door open and a man make his way into the living room. Maybe he was more out of practice than he thought. He shook himself. “Meditating.” 

“Like a monk?” 

Harry laughed. “Sort of, I guess.” 

“Oh. Sorry to bother you.” 

“That’s all right. I feel better now?” 

Draco gave him an odd look. “Were you not feeling well before?” 

Harry shrugged. “Sometimes everything just feels like too much. I’ve been doing this mindfulness stuff for years. Hermione gave me a book on it after the war. It helps.” 

Draco nodded. “I understand. Sometimes...well, sometimes the memories come back and it’s hard to cope. I get it. We went through some shit.” 

Harry wondered how Draco had learned to cope, but he decided it was way too early in the morning for that serious conversation. He gave his lover a smile. “How about some coffee?” 

“Sounds wonderful.” 

Harry stood and made his way to the kitchen, stopping to kiss Draco good morning on his way. He set about making the coffee, only using magic to boil the water, but manually measuring out the coffee into the French press. He carried two steaming mugs to the couch and curled up next to Draco. 

“Are you nervous about tonight?” Draco asked him. He sounded nervous himself. 

Harry thought for a moment. He could lie and say no, just to reassure Draco. But he didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want dishonesty in this relationship. Not after so many years of turmoil. “I am.” 

“Me, too.” 

“I mean, I don’t think Ron is going to attack you or anything.” 

“I’m more worried about Hermione and that mean right hook.” 

Harry snorted into his coffee at the memory. “Sorry,” he said quickly. But he stole a sidelong glance at Draco and saw him grinning. 

“It’s all right. I don’t remember the particulars, but I’m sure I deserved it.” He lay his blond head on Harry’s shoulder. “Well, we’ve got all day. Want to lay around and do nothing?” 

Nothing sounded better. Harry didn’t remember the last time he just lounged around the house. Weekends were full of obligations and errands and whatnot. It felt good to be free. He nodded. Draco pressed a quick kiss to his cheek then stood to open the television cabinet. He sat down on the couch with the remote. It was odd seeing Draco use Muggle technology and so comfortably at that. But then he flipped the telly on to some home decorating show, and Harry took a moment to appreciate how right it looked. How right it felt. He looked forward to more days like this in the future. Then, he decided to just be mindful and appreciate right now.


	10. In Which Harry Potter Finally Stops Running From His Past

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Draco asked as they Apparated into the garden of the Granger-Weasley household. Harry shook a vicious garden gnome off his foot with string of obscenities. 

“What? Yeah, it will be fine.” He gave Draco a reassuring kiss and took his hand, leading him to the door. Hermione flung the door open before they could knock; she must have been watching out the window. 

“Harry! Draco! Come in, come in.” Harry rolled his eyes. Stressed Hermione always sounded like her mother with that high-pitched, saccharine voice. But he’d never tell Hermione that because she was the most powerful witch he knew, and she would hex him. 

“Your home is lovely,” Draco said stiffly. Oh, these two would be the death of him with this formal awkwardness. 

“Thank you.” 

“I brought a bottle of wine.” 

“Oh, how lovely. Thank you. Draco.” 

Harry stifled a snort. This was going to be a long evening if he did not do something. Hermione led them to the living room, where Ron was sitting by the fire. He stood when Harry and Draco entered the room. 

“Malfoy.” His voice was strained and stern. 

“Weasley.” Draco’s voice sounded like the arrogant teen they all used to despise. 

“Ron!” Hermione chastised her husband. “We talked about this. We’re all adults now, and Draco is dating Harry. We are going to use first. Names.” Her lips thinned as she reiterated this point to Ron. 

“Fine. Welcome to our home, Draco. I’m sure it’s not up to your standards but---OW! Fine, I’ll stop.” Ron rubbed his arm where Hermione had pinched him. 

Harry summoned wine glasses from Hermione’s kitchen and magically removed the cork from the bottle. He poured four glasses and passed one to each of them. He pointed his wine at the bottle to refill it; wine never tasted quite right when magically multiplied, but it would have to do. This task demanded copious amounts of alcohol. “All right. We’re going to address the fucking hippogriff in the room.” 

“Honestly, Harry, this is a dessert wine. It’s meant to be paired with--” 

“Draco, shove it. All right, listen up. Draco and I have talked through our past. And we’re all going to do the same thing. Draco’s in my life now, just like you two. So, Hermione, cut the Jean Granger act. Ron, stop being a cunt. Draco, try not to be such a posh arse.” 

His two best friends and his boyfriend gaped at him. He gulped his wine and plopped down on the IKEA sofa that had been the source of a legendary Ron and Hermione fight back before Hugo was born. “Sit.” 

Ron sat back in his armchair—another source of contention—and Hermione perched on the settee. Draco sat gingerly on the sofa next to Harry as if he were ready to flee at any moment. They stared at each other, and Harry refilled everyone’s drinks from the now-floating wine bottle. Draco took a sip and sighed. 

“All right. Weasley, I mean Ron. I was a right prick to you from the moment we met. I was only spouting off shite I’d heard my father say, and he was a right bastard. I’m sorry for all the things I said to you, and I’m sorrier I ever believed any of it. You’re a good man; anyone who reads the papers can tell that.” 

Ron’s jaw was slack as he stared at Draco. Harry smiled into his wine glass, determined not to ruin the moment. Ron cleared his throat. “I, uh, I forgive you. And I’m sorry for anything I ever said to you that was uncalled for.” 

Draco nodded. He reached a hand back to grab Harry’s knee for support then turned toward Hermione. “Hermione, I think I was the worst to you. And I’m sorry. I wish I had never heard the word Mudblood, because it’s all a bunch of hurtful nonsense. I don’t believe it at all anymore. And I am so, so sorry for what you endured at my family’s home, at the hands of my aunt.” 

Hermione had tears in her eyes. She nodded. “Thank you, Draco. That means a lot. I forgive you and hope we can start over. And I’m sorry for punching you all those years ago.” 

“Are you really though?” Draco smirked. 

“Not at all.” She grinned. “Who is ready for dinner?” 

The rest of the evening passed without event. Draco could talk Quidditch and business with Ron. He and Hermione bonded over books, having shared tastes in both nonfiction and fiction. They both left with a list of recommendations to read. And they all cared for the child abuse law. Hermione didn’t even act upset when Harry told her he quit the Aurors. She did gripe at him for calling her Jean Granger, though. 

At the end of the night, Hermione handed Draco a rolled piece of parchment. “I put together the statement from the notes you sent me, Draco. If you have no edits, I’ll send it over to the Daily Prophet Monday morning.” 

“Thank you, Hermione.” 

She smiled and hugged Harry goodbye. She and Draco gave each other an odd look before she pulled him into a friendly embrace. Harry grinned. He couldn’t have hoped for any better outcome. 

Harry fell asleep quickly that night, sated and happy. He didn't even think about the fact that he did not take any Dreamless Sleep. His eyes closed almost as soon as Draco had finished him off with his mouth after riding him. But sweet dreams soon gave way to nightmares. 

Harry crawled out of his cupboard to the sound of Uncle Vernon's booming voice demanding Harry make breakfast. But when he served the eggs and toast, it was not to his uncle. Voldemort sat at the kitchen table and berated Harry for overcooking the eggs. He drew his wand and Harry screamed. He cast Sectumsempra but the curse flew past Harry onto teenaged Dudley. Harry screamed and rushed to his cousin's side. “Where is Daisy?” Dream Dudley panted over and over as blood gushed from his wounds. They were no longer at Privet Drive; instead they were in that bathroom at Hogwarts. Harry looked around for help. Draco swooped in dressed in billowing black robes as if he were Snape. 

Dream Draco sneered at Harry. “It's all your fault, Potter.” 

Harry bolted upright in bed. He was drenched in sweat and tears. He panted hard. Draco placed a hand on his back, and Harry jumped. “Sorry sorry sorry,” Draco murmured. “I’m sorry. Harry, are you all right?” 

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. The images from his dream replayed over and over in his mind. He swallowed a large gulp of air in an unsuccessful attempt to steady his breathing. The tears had not stopped. He knew he looked a mess, but he nodded at Draco, embarrassed. “Fine.” 

Draco sat up next to him. “You’re a terrible liar. Did you have a nightmare?” 

Heat flushed Harry’s face. He nodded. 

“Do you get them often?” 

Harry nodded again. Draco did nothing but sit in silence for a few moments, and Harry tried to steady his breath. Then he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” Harry gave him a sidelong glance. He had never told anyone about his dreams. He just pushed them away and meditated, focusing on the present. Draco continued. “I got them bad after the war. The whole Manor was tainted by his presence there. And sometimes my brain would mix up him and my father. PTSD, the Muggles call it. Anyway, someone suggested to me that I talk about the dreams and the panic attacks. But I didn’t have anyone to...I didn’t want to bother my mother. So, I started keeping a dream journal. It helped. It’s like, I was able to acknowledge it, and it seemed so much less scary on paper.” 

Harry thought for a moment. The dream was starting to slip away. He’d never thought to just confront it. “It’s been ten years. I shouldn’t...” 

“You went through some pretty major shit, Harry. It’s okay that it still affects you. It’s not okay to just pretend it doesn’t, though.” 

Harry thought for a bit. He had been fine for years until Draco and Dudley appeared in his life a few months ago. Maybe Draco was right. “All right. Fine.” He stumbled through piecing together the dream and relayed it to Draco. It sounded stupid out loud but Draco didn’t react. He just nodded, listening. 

“And sometimes, I get so scared to go out in public. I feel like I have to be ready for an attack at any moment.” Once he started talking, he just couldn’t stop. He told Draco about the darkest memories of the war. He told him about the guilt he felt for all the people who had died, and how he often felt like the whole war was all his fault. He told him about his inability to have relationships. It all came pouring out of Harry for the first time in years. The dark bedroom shifted to the pale grey that comes just before dawn. Harry had talked for over an hour, and Draco—he had just listened. 

“I died, you know. That night in the forest.” He had told Ron and Hermione about Kings’ Cross, years ago. And many people suspected that he had in fact died and come back to life. But he had never told anyone else what had happened in the world between worlds that night. Once the words came, however, they would not stop. He told every detail of it to Draco, not caring if he sounded like a crackpot. “Sometime I wonder if I made the right decision, coming back.” 

He had never admitted that before. Hermione would have told him that was silly, that of course he made the right decision. Ron would have freaked out and told him not to talk about stuff like that. But Draco did not do either. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. “Can I hold you?” 

Harry was taken aback. He had just unloaded years’ worth of heavy baggage onto the boyfriend he had only been dating for four days. But he nodded. Draco pulled him back to lay down on the bed then wrapped his arms around him. He kissed the back of Harry’s head and pressed his warm body against Harry’s back. 

“I guess you’ll never know if you made the right decision. We can’t ever know that about anything. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to come back.” 

Harry smiled. He placed his own hand over the pale hand that rested on Harry’s stomach. “I think I am, too.”


	11. In Which Harry Potter Has A Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the double entendre of the chapter title was intended.

The nightmares did not go away completely; Harry doubted they ever would. But they became far less frequent the more Harry confronted them. Whenever he woke panting and sweating, Draco woke, too, and listened to Harry talk out his dream. Whenever Harry’s anxiety rose about leaving the house, Draco noticed. He wouldn’t say much, just listen and squeeze Harry’s hand. Soon, that anxiety was nearly gone. 

And it wasn’t just Harry who was sharing his innermost feelings. Draco, too, had become quite the open book. He said it was the only way he had managed to heal as much as he had. He told Harry whenever something triggered a bad memory. He talked about the terrors he was forced to witness as a teenage Death Eater living with Voldemort. Harry had never been in a relationship where he didn’t have to keep secrets. It was refreshing. 

The Daily Prophet published Hermione’s article within the week after she hosted Harry and Draco for dinner that first time. Now, Draco came to every Saturday night dinner, ever Wednesday family dinner with the Dursleys, and he even came to Sunday lunches at the Burrow. He also dragged Harry to Thursday dinners with his mother and whoever she was dating that week. 

The article was widely well-received. Draco and the Golden Trio gave interviews to the Quibbler, Witch Weekly, and other publications. Letters of support flooded in to the editors and to the members of the Wizengamot. There were a few people, of course, who didn’t think the government should stick their nose into people’s personal lives like that. Harry suspected Draco mentally added those names to a list of individuals to watch once the law passed. 

Their days were filled with establishing the charity, printing out posters and pamphlets about the signs of child abuse, and conducting interviews with witches and wizards who wanted to be social workers. The evenings that did not have family obligations were filled with fundraising. And every night, Harry and Draco went to bed, exhausted and fulfilled, and usually quite satisfied with each other’s bodies. Sometimes they stayed at Grimmauld Place; other times they stayed at Draco’s flat. 

Two months flew by, and soon the day of the Wizengamot vote was upon them. Though public opinion polls favored the law by a large margin, Draco was a nervous wreck, even worse than he had been the day of the meeting with the Minister and Chief Warlock. Harry was nervous, too, but calming down Draco required too much of his attention to focus on the possible bad outcome. There’s not going to be a bad outcome, he told himself. 

Draco and Harry met Ron and Hermione at the entrance of the Ministry. Anyone could sit in the dungeons during a Wizengamot vote, and they wanted to be there front and center for the result. Deliberation and debate had already happened. All four of them had testified in front of the council over the last few weeks in support, as had several other witches and wizards. 

Draco grasped Harry’s hand tightly as they rode the Ministry elevators down to the dungeons. Harry never liked this descent. Too many terrible memories had occurred in the lowest levels of the Ministry. He squeezed Draco’s hand back; he could talk about this later, after the good news. Right now, he was here for Draco. They exchanged a small, private smile. 

Ron had attempted to lighten the mood with bad jokes but stopped when the elevator let them out on Level 9. The level that contained the Department of Mysteries held many bad memories for him, as well. This was where his father was attacked and where Ron had been in his first battle against Death Eaters. Hermione leaned closer into Ron as the four friends made their way to the staircase to Level 10. 

The Wizengamot was meeting in Courtroom Ten. Several members already sat in their plum robes, but Harry and the others were a half-hour early. They wanted good seats for the result. They made their way into the front row of visitor seating and sat in relative silence, occasionally whispering to each other some random observation. The visitor seats began to fill up around them, and more members of the council took their places. Not everyone was here for the Child Services law. Three other laws would be voted on today. But many people were there in support of Harry and Draco. Blaise Zabini took a seat on Draco’s other side. Neville, McGonagall, and Luna sat behind them, as well as a few other professors. Pansy Parkinson waved at Draco as she entered and took a seat a few rows back. Molly and Arthur entered with Andromeda, and much to Harry’s surprise, Narcissa. 

“When did that happen?” Harry whispered to Draco. Narcissa smiled at the two men and made her way into the stands with her sister. 

“I have no idea,” Draco whispered back. He sounded as shocked as Harry. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it on Thursday.” He was right; Narcissa left no gossipy detail undiscussed at Thursday dinners. Visiting with the Malfoy matron was better than reading the newspaper and gossip magazines. 

At precisely three o’clock, the Chief Warlock, Dawlish, called the Wizengamot to order. Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted the visitors and listed out the agenda. The vote on the Child Services law would be last. 

The first vote was on a new tax on high-risk potions ingredients. The summary of the law was read out, then the Chief Warlock opened the floor for ten minutes for final comments from members of the council. If no one wanted to speak, it would go straight to a vote. Several members spoke in opposition to the tax, but it passed by a narrow margin. Next up was a bill to cut the budget of the Hit Wizards. It did not pass. Harry zoned out on the next law: something about expanding healing magic rights to mediwitches or something. He did not hear whether it passed. 

Finally, the Chief Warlock announced the Child Services Bill. It would establish a new department under the Investigation Department, hire social workers, and work in conjunction with the Wizarding Children Protection Society. It would criminalize child abuse and give the Ministry the power to investigate suspected adults and intervene in various capacities. It also included an education program for parents and educators. Dawlish opened the floor for final comments, but no one stood to speak. Harry heard Ron whipser to Hermione, “Is that a good sign or a bad sign?” Hermione shrugged. Harry felt Draco tense beside him. 

The vote opened. One by one, each member of the Wizengamot cast their vote with a wave of their wand. Magical tally marks filled the air in the center of the courtroom. Harry’s heart beat faster with every vote. The “for” column filled up. In the end, only three council members voted against the law: all were elderly and unpleasant. 

Dawlish’s voice boomed across the courtroom. “The Child Services Law passes and becomes effective on 1 January 2009. This session of the Wizengamot is dismissed.” 

Cheers broke out from the visitors’ stand, and Draco and Harry leapt up with joy. Draco planted a huge kiss on Harry’s lips. If the wizarding world did not know about their relationship before, they certainly did now. Harry saw a camera flash in his periphery. Hermione hugged Harry and Draco in turn, and Ron embraced his best friend. Then he grinned at Draco and pulled the blond into a bear hug. 

“Drinks are on us at the Leaky in an hour!” Harry yelled to the crowd. Then he leaned into murmur in Draco’s ear. “Come on, you. We’ve got an hour to celebrate alone.” 

They slipped out of the crowd and made their way to the Ministry exit. Harry had become quite skilled at escaping reporters. He was sure they would pin them down at the pub later for a statement. But for now, he just wanted to be alone with Draco. 

As soon as they exited the Ministry, Harry Apparated them straight into Draco’s living room. “You did it, Draco! I’m so proud of you!” 

Draco beamed. “I couldn’t have done it without you!” 

“We’re going to save wizarding children!” 

“I love you, Harry Potter.” 

“I love you, too, Draco Malfoy, you brilliant, wonderful man. Let me prove it to you.” With a wave of his wand, he undressed both of them. Draco smirked but Harry planted a passionate kiss on his lips before he could reply with some smart-ass comment. He ran his hands over Draco’s bare chest down to his already swelling cock. He gave Draco’s long erection a tug. Draco groaned into Harry’s mouth, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

“Tell me what you want,” Harry growled. He bit Draco’s neck. “It’s your day. You get whatever you want.” 

“Oh god...eat...me,” Draco panted. 

“Gladly.” Harry turned Draco around and pushed him down on the bed. “Get on your knees.” Draco obeyed, exposing his tight entrance to Harry. Harry climbed on the bed behind him. He peppered licks and kisses down Draco’s back. He placed a gentle bite on Draco’s arse cheek. 

“Fuck, Harry. Stop teasing me.” 

Harry chuckled. “So demanding. But we are celebrating your win. I guess I’ll let it slide.” He whispered a cleansing spell that made Draco shiver as it worked. Then he lowered his head between Draco’s beautiful, pale arse cheeks. He started with one long, smooth lick. Draco let out the most glorious moan, encouraging Harry to continue. 

Harry moved his tongue deftly. He loved the way Draco just melted when he ate him out. He reached around to grab his lover’s cock and began to stroke in time to his licks. He blew gently against Draco’s wet, swollen entrance. Draco whimpered. It wasn’t long before Draco was crying out incoherent strings of exclamations and obscenities. Harry darted his tongue in and out and sped up the strokes of his hands. Draco tensed, and Harry knew he was on the bring of an explosive orgasm. But he stopped himself. “Get inside me and fuck me, Potter.” 

Harry’s already hard cock twitched at the demand. He glanced at the clock; they still had time. He lubed himself up with Draco’s spell then pressed the thick head of his hardness against Draco’s hole. With one, long swift movement, he entered him. Draco grunted, and Harry realized he had not stretched his lover at all in the heat of the moment. “All right, love?” 

“Yes. Uh. Fuck me hard.” 

Harry obliged. He moved his hips hard and deep, ramming himself inside of Draco’s warm, tight arse. He groaned at the tightness around his cock. He dug his hands into Draco’s hips and looked down the length of his stomach to watch his cock enter and exit his boyfriend. Moan after moan escaped their mouths, until Harry wasn’t sure who made what noise. “Harder, Harry.” 

Harry bent down low over Draco’s back so he could get deeper. He moved faster and reached around to squeeze Draco’s cock. He sped up his strokes, faster and faster, his left hand never leaving Draco’s weeping erection. He felt Draco tense again at the same moment his own balls tightened. He squeezed his left hand and rammed his hips hard against Draco. 

His orgasm flowed from him in sweet release, and Draco’s hot liquid spurted over Harry’s hand at the same time. “Fuck,” Harry shouted as his orgasm rippled through his body. Nobody had ever made Harry come the way Draco could. He thought briefly how much amazing sex he had missed out on by hating Draco for so long. 

The two lovers lay panting and sweating on their backs, legs intertwined. They had ten minutes to get to the pub for the celebration but they needed to catch their breath. “Harry?” 

“Mm?” Harry lay with his eyes closed, relishing the satiation that comes with powerful orgasms. He didn’t think he could form a coherent sentence just yet. 

“Let’s move in together.” 

Harry sat up and leaned on his elbow to look at Draco. He had not expected that, although it was true that they had not spent a single night apart in two months. Draco wrung his hands and blushed. “We can work out logistics later. And it can be here or your place, I don’t care.” 

“All right.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Let’s move in together.” Harry grinned, and Draco returned his smile. Harry loved when Draco smiled so big that his grey eyes squinted. Harry patted Draco’s stomach. “Come on, let’s clean up and get dressed, roomie.” 

With a few quick Scourgifys and fresh clothes, Draco and Harry Flooed into the Leaky Cauldron two minutes past five. Applause burst forth from the crowds of their friends and family as they entered. Draco blushed and squeezed Harry’s hand. Cameras flashed as they made their way to the bar. Harry told Tom the barman to charge everything to his tab. 

Toasts were made and glasses clinked. Even Kingsley showed up and clapped Harry and Draco on the back. Harry watched McGonagall have a bit too much to drink, her Scottish accent becoming more and more incomprehensible. Molly’s face had turned as red as her hair, and she kept exclaiming, “The children! Think of all the children!” Even Narcissa had relaxed, and she and Andromeda laughed in private conversation. 

Draco banged a spoon against his drink to call everyone to attention. He cleared his throat. “I want to thank all of you for your support. We’re really going to make a difference in this world. And I could not have done it without all of you, writing letters and testifying at the Wizengamot and talking to your friends. I especially want to thank Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley for their help. But most importantly, I could not have done it without the love of my life, your very own Savior, Harry Potter.” 

Harry beamed. “But it was all your idea, Draco. To Malfoy!” He raised his glass. 

“To Malfoy!” everyone echoed. 

The crowd seemed to disappear as he and Draco held each other’s gaze. To Malfoy, indeed. Only Draco Malfoy could turn his past into the greatest cause the wizarding world had seen in decades. Only Draco Malfoy could convince Harry to stop running from his past. And only Draco Malfoy held his future. “To us,” he mouthed. 

“To us.”


End file.
